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A PLAY OF 
MODERN NEW YORK LIFE 



BY 



CLEVELAND MOFFETT 



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A PLAY OF 
MODERN NEW YORK LIFE 



BY 



CLEVELAND MOFFETT 



COPYR G IT 1908 

BY 

CLEVELAND MOFFETT 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



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|u5«ARY of OONflRE«S. 
I iwu CODtes tlectti>c« 

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''THE BATTLE." 



ACT I. 



pj SCENE: The living room in Moran's tenement on Market Street, in the most 
Q, crowded part of the East Side, New York City. At L. is an alcove kitchen contain- 

t|^ ing a cook stove, stationary wash tubs and a litter of dishes, food, etc., scattered 

^ about. At R. are two doors, one up-stage, leading to the hallway. Between the 

two doors is a mantel-piece on which are three clocks, a big marble one with gilt 
trimmings, a white marble one and a little nickel one. 

This living room is a wretched place, with floor of bare boards partly covered with 
bits of tattered carpet. The furniture is battered and broken and everything is in 
a shabby or filthy condition. Two iron beds, up stage, are covered with a huddle 
of bed clothes. At the bank are two windows which look out over the East River 
with a view of the Brooklyn Bridge. These windows are draped with cheap lace 
curtains, holding the dust of years, and between them stands a hat rack of black 
wood with a cracked looking glass, a relic of varnished respectability. On the 
walls are gaudy chromos of European rulers in gala dress, also a large picture of 
a man in diving costume. From the veiling hangs a tarnished chandelier, one of 
its arms supporting a dusty Derby hat. 
In front is a sewing machine w^ith a small table near it. 
TIME : The present. About seven o'clock in the morning of a winter day. 
DISCOVERED : As the curtain rises Jenny Moran is seen Working at sewing machine b^ the 
light of a lamp on the table. This lamp shines full in Jenn^ 's face, throwing into strong relief 
her striking and rather sensuous beauty. It leaves the rest of the stage in shadow. Jenny is 
dressed simply in blazk- Her face bears an expression of half resignation, half discontent. She 
lakes neckties f am a pile on the table, stitches them in the machine and throws them finished 
into a basket on the floor. 

The two beds are seen vaguely in the shodows and it gradually becomes apparent, through 
slight movements on the beds, coughing, etc., that they are occupied. 

From one of the beds comes the sound of a child's coughing accompanied by the crying of 
another child. 

MORAN. {In same bed mth children) Oh, shut up ! (To Jenny) What time is it? 

Jenny. {Without looking up from machine) After seven. {Moran grumbling, Jumps up 
and hastily puts on his trousers and coal. He is a thin sbarp-e\)ed man) 

MoRAN. Can't sleep with that kid coughing and kicking. {He goes to sink end 
souses his head in water under the faucet, then he wipes his face with a dirty towel. ) {To 
Jenn^) Do I get any breakfast? 

Jenny. There's bread and cold coffee over there. {Moran searches among dishes in 
kitchen alcove and lakes up a piece of bread. Then he pours out a cup of black coffee and 
proceeds to eal and drink. ) (Joe Caffre'^ in the other bed sits, yawns, yawns and stretches his 
arms. Then he lights candle on a chair at his bedside, lakes up paper and begins to read. The 
stage grores brighter.) 



2 



Joe. (Reading) Here's a description of John J. Haggleton's private yacht. 
He's sailing to-day on a cruise in the West Indies. 

MORAN. (Savagely) John J. Haggleton ! Our landlord! I'd like to have him 
here. (He finishes his bread and coffee.) 

Joe. (Reading two er three lines aloud from paper.) "The walls are panelled in 
satinwood, underfoot are velvet carpets twelve feet wide, without seam. 
Electric lights shine out everywhere like great opals. Closets open mysteriously 
out of the walls at the touch of a button. It will take no less than $5,000 a 
month to run this ocean palace and its owner ." 

MoRAN. (Interrupting violentlii.) Damned millionaire ! (Wipes his mouth with back 
of his hand and pushes away from table. ) 

Joe. (Throwing down paper and stretching luxuriously.) Oh — Hum ! Think I'll 
take a yachting trip. Getting frightfully bored, don't you know! (IVith 
exaggerated drawl. ) 

Jenny. (Stopping machine.) (To Morcn.) Father, I wish you'd stop at Mrs. 
Binney's and ask her to come around here and look at Benny. He might have 
croup. 

MoRAN. (Disgusted.) Benny! It's a rotten idea having these kids here 
anyvv^ay. Why don't they stay vdth their father? 

Jenny. Their father pays us four dollars a month for their board. (Shz starts 
machine again. The two children continue to cry in the bed. Moran takss hat from 
chandelier and goes to door. Then he turns and looks about him bit!:.l;y.) 

Moran. (Scowling) This is a hell of a home ! (Exil Moran.) 

Joe. (Good naturedly to children.) Don't you cry, you two star boarders. 
You're going to have presents. Hear that ? Presents! (The children stop crying 
and sit up in bed listening eagerly) Come here, Emmy. (Emmy gets out of bed in her 
nightgown. She is a child of ten but small for her age. Benny tries to follow but he is takzn 
with a fit of coughing.) You stay there, Benny. You're sick. (Emmy comes to Joe's 
bedside) Now Jisten, I'm going to get up in a minute and that sympathetic and 
good looking lady over there, whose sister I married, is going to lend me two 
dollars. 

Jenny. ( Turning to Joe) Not on your life. 

Joe. (Ignoring this) This two dollars I'm going to take over to Wallace's 
pool room and play it on a horse named Wild Cherry. Understand ? 

Emmy. Wild Cherry ? 

Joe. Precisely. Wild Cherry is a cinch at fifteen to one. So I'll come back 
this afternoon with thirty bones. 

Emmy. Gee ! Thirty bones ! 

Joe. (Watching Jenny) Of which the sympathetic and good looking lady 
yonder gets ten, leaving twenty for personal expenses and miscellaneous 
charities. Ahem! (He tries to attract Jenny's attention.) 

Jenny. I tell you it don't go. 

Joe. (To Emmy) That means a new doll for you Emmy, and— (To the other 
child) What do you want, Benny? 



Benny. {In piping treble) Want a yacht. 

Joe. Ha, ha! we want a yacht like that millionaire, Haggleton. All right, 
my son, you get a yacht. 

Jenny. Better cut out pool rooms, Joe, and look for a job. 

Joe. Possibly, but- (He yawns) Emmy, hand me those cigarettes. {The 
child obe\;s, Joe lights cigarette and blows the smoke reflectively) ( To Emmy) Now take 
Benny into the other bedroom and tell him about the yacht. {Emm\f goes to other 
bed.) 

Emmy. Come Benny. {The little boy gets up and his sister helps him like a mother 
into the other room. {Exit Emmy and Benny into Bedroom R.) 

Joe. {To Jenny) You suggest looking for a job, Jenny, but that implies a 
desire to work. And in me that would mean sweeping reform. Now reform 
may suit you, my dear sister-in-law, but— 

Jenny. {Sharpl\f) That's enough. 

Joe. No offense! Have a eigarette? 

Jenny. {Shaking her head) Sweet Caporals? Ugh! 

Joe. I know you prefer Egyptians, but— if a girl will be an idiot. Here! 
{He throws a cigarette to Jenny who catches it, lights it at lamp and smokes with keen relish) 

Jenny. An idiot! 

Joe. {Wisely) It's all right to keep straight, but why go to extremes? {As he 
speaks he notices that Jenny's eyes are fixed on the diver's picture. His face brightens With a 
look of sudden understanding.) By George, I know why you did it! 

Jenny. What do you mean? 

Joe. It wasn't for my poor departed Liz that you quit sporting, it was for 
him. {He points to picture.) 

Jenny. For Phil? 

Joe. Yes, for Phil. {Jenny smokes quietly for a few moments.) 

Jenny. You're not such a fool, Joe! {Joe slips out of bed and begins to dress 
quickly. He is an intelligent and rather sympathetic young fellow With a Weak face.) 

Joe. Then it's true? {Jenny nods "yes") You're stuck on him? {He points to 
picture.) 

Jenny. Good and plenty. {Joe goes to ^//c/ien alcove and gets bread and coffee.) 

Joe. {Eating) All right, I'll stand in with you. We'll have to sidetrack the 
other maiden. 

Jenny. You mean that high-toned girl at Phil's boarding house ? 

Joe. Sure. The trained nurse. She's the only peach on the tree for Philip. 

Jenny. {Fiercely) She'll never get him, never. If a girl as bad as I am ever 
loves a man, Joe, why— 

Joe. That's right, but you'll need help, Jenny. {Pause) Say do I get that 
two dollars? {Jenny shakes her head and gois on with her Work ot the machine) Then I 
don't help. {He draws up chair near lamp) I'll read some more about John J. 
Haggleton ! {He reads in silence while Jenny Works. Presently a step is heard in the hall 
and there is a knock at the door.) 

Jenny. {Calli.ig) Come in. {Enter Philip Ames) {Philip is a handsome, broad 



shouldered young man of twenty-five. His face is bronzed by exposure to all Weathers. He 
has a frank, engaging manner with a certain air of authority. He carries a bundle. Jenny 
quickly throws away cigarette) 

Philip. Good morning. 

Jenny. (Her face brightening) Good morning, Phil. 

Joe. (Aside) Talk of the devil! (/oe shonjs in pantomime that he has an idea.) 

Philip. (To Jenny) Your father just stopped at the boarding house, he says 
Benny is sick. 
Jenny. Benny's been coughing a good deal. 
Philip. Mrs. Binney sent over this croup kettle. (He lays bundle on kitchen 

table.) 

Jenny. Thanks! (She pantomimes Joe to go out. Joe lifts two fingers. Jenn^ nods 
"yes. ") 

Joe. (To Jenny with meaning look-) Shall I get the medicine you wanted? (He 
holds up two fingers again) 

Jenny. Yes, here is two dollars. (She opens purse and gives him money.) 

Joe. I'll hurry right after it. Good-bye, Phil. 
Philip. Good-bye. 

Joe. (He pauses at door and winks at Jenny while he makss motions of a jockey riding a 
horss.) (Exit Joe.) 

Philip. Mind if I smoke? 

Jenny. You know I don't. I love a good cigarette. (Philip lights cigarette.) 

Philip. You mean you— (He starts to hand her one hut checks himself) You 

don't want one? 

Jenny. No, I — er— I've' stopped smoking. 

Philip. Ah! (A pause) Well how are things going? 

Jenny. Rotten, thank you. 

Philip. Don't you feel— er happier? 

Jenny. Happier! This is where I live. See anything here to make me 
happier? I get up at six o'clock an push cheap neckties through that^ewing 
machine for ten hours a day. And get five dollars a week for it. See anything 
in that to make me happier? 

Philip. (Qravely) You must be glad you've given up the old life? You're 
doing right, anyhow. 

Jenny. (Shrugging her shoulders.) Who cares whether I do right? 

Philip. Don't say that, you know we all care. 

Jenny. Does father care? Does Joe Cafi'rey care? Nit ! They'd rather 
have me hustling in the Tenderloin so they could work me for ten or twenty 
when they're broke. Oh, I guess yes. 

Philip. Then it's only your promise to Liz that makes you do this? 

Jenny. (Shaking her head.) It isn't even that. I promised Liz I'd keep straight 
but— Liz is dead. She'd never know what I do or if she did know, she'd see 
this life is too hard for me. (She looks about the room.) The only thing that keeps 



me from going back — 

Philip. Don't say that. 

Jenny. It's true. The onl.v thing is I— (She fixes her warm eyes upon him) I 
don't want to make you feel bad. That's the only reason. (Philip looks at her 
uneasily and is silent) It would make you feel had, wouldn't it, Phil ? 

Philip. (Earnestly) It certainly would. 

Jenny. I know. You were here that night when Liz died. It's only three 
weeks ago but it seems a year. She made us both kneel down by her bed didn't 
she ? I had a big hat covered with red feathers. Remember ? Then she made 
me promise to keep straight and she made you promise to help me. 

Philip. I'll keep my promise, Jenny, I'll help you. 

Jenny. I guess she thought I might do it for you. She knew how much 
I've always cared for you. Always, Phil, ever since we were Httle playmates 
together. (A pause and then mith a sigh) Ah, If I hadn't married George! 

Philip. (Reproving) Jenny. 

Jenny. Well, it spoiled my life all right. My life! Look at it! George 
dies in the first year and leaves me with a baby and no money. Then I go out 
as a wet nurse, I have to, and the baby dies. My beautiful baby girl ! Then I 
get reckless and— the lady's husband gets gay with me and— the lady fires me 
and— I go on the town. There you are! That's my life! I say I've never had 
a chance. 

Philip. You have a chance now. 

Jenny. It's too late. You — er— (Suddenly as if clutching at a straw of hope) You 
used to think I was pretty but (Desperately) Phil, you couldn't, you wouldn't— 
(Philip draws back) What a fool I am? How can you care for me when you love 
another girl ? I know. 

Philip. What do you know ? 

Jenny. (In a burst of jealousy) I know you're struck on that girl at the board- 
ing house. 

Philip. Miss Lawrence ? Who told you ? 

Jenny. No one told me. I'm a woman. (5/ie controls herself with an effort) It's 
all right, Phil. She'll make you a fine wife. (A pause and then anxiously) 
Have you— asked her yet? (Philip nods "yes, " Jenny gives a start of pain) Did you 
ask her last night? (Philip nods "yes. ") And she said "Yes?" (Philip nods "yes. ") 

Jenny. (Deeply moved) I want you to be happy, Phil, I— er— (with an effort) I 
congratulate you. 

Philip. Thanks, Jenny. 

Jenny. (Anxiously) You won't be difl^erent with me now you're in love? We'll 
be friends just the same ? 

Philip. Of course we will. 

Jenny. (Pathetic) Because that's all I've got, your friendship. And you 
won't tell her? You mustn't tell her. 

Philip. You mean about your— er— 

Jenny. Yes. It would spoil everything if she knew that. 



Philip. (Perplexed) She's a splendid, broad-minded girl. 

Jenny. I'd be ashamed if she knew, I'd hate her. Don't you see? (Philip 
thinks a moment) 

Philip. You're right, Jenny, I won't tell her. (A knock is heard at the door) 
Ah ! (He looks at his watch) Half past eight. That may be she now, I asked her 
to come and look at Benny. You know she's a trained nurse. 

Jenny. Half past eight. (She hurries to table and throws the neckties into a basket. 
Then she catches up her hat and cloak- Philip goes to hall door and opens it.) (Enter 
Margaret) Margaret Lawrence is a handsome girl of twenty-two with resolute eyes that look 
out from under wide calm brows, and fine health and a sense of humor. She has great charm 
of manner. She Wears a trim tailor-made gown. (As the lovers meet fenny shows in panto- 
mime her sufferings and her haired of Margaret.) 

Margaret. (Brightly) Good morning ! (She holds out her small, neatly gloved 
hand and Philip takes it eagerly in both his hands. He looks at her as if he longs to fold her 
in his arms.) 

Philip. (Forgetting everything but Margaret's presence) YoU darling! You beauty! 

Margaret. (Archly) Been thinking of me ? 

Philip. I love you, I worship you. (He bends nearer and is on the point of kissing 
her when fenny moves sharply towards the door. The lovers start back '" confusion) 

Philip. (To fenny) I' beg your pardon, I— er— (Awkwardly to Margaret) I want 
you to know my old friend, Jenny Moran, Miss Lawrence. 

Jenny. Sorry I can't stay, but I promised those neckties for eight o'clock. 
(She moves toward door) 

Margaret. I'll write down the instructions. 

Jenny. (Opening door) Good-bye. 

Margaret. (Kindly) Hope to see you soon, (fenny pauses with a strange, fixed 
look in her eyes and then goes out. Exit fenny rather abruptly.) 

Philip. (Half apologetic) She's a little crude sometimes— but she has a good 
heart. 

Margaret. I think she's very pretty. What eyes ! What hair ! She might 
be a gypsy queen. 

Philip. She's had a hard life, I'll be glad if you-er-if you'll be a little 
kind to her. 

Margaret. (Heartily) Of course I will- (Half doubtful) if she'll allow me to. 

Philip. Allow you ? 

Margaret. (With slight shrug) She gave me a very strange look, just now, as 
she went out. (Pause) (With sudden coquet,^) Anything else to make you glad? 

Philip. (Drawing her to him) My precious! (He looks into her e\)es ardently) It 
doesn't seem possible. It's too wonderful. 

Margaret. (Smiling fondly) What is ? 

Philip. You— this. 

Margaret. (Mischievous) I'm not wonderful. I'm just a lonely little 
trained nurse. 

Philip. (Bending nearer) Are you lonely now ? 



Margaret. {Softly) No dear \ 
Philip. My love. (He k'sses her.) 

Margaret. {Blissfully)) Philip. {She resls in his arms a few moments and then 
disengages herself.) This is most unprofessional. I'm here to look after a sick 
child. {She starts toward bedroom) 

Philip. Wait ! {He draws up a chair) This is a pretty awful place but— sit 
down a minute. {The\) sit down) I thought of something last night after I left 
you. I didn't sleep very well. ' 

Margaret. {Demure) Neither did I. 

Philip. {Earnestly) You mean you thought seriously about the future— about 
our future ? 

Margaret. {Sweetly) I wasn't so very serious, I was— happy. 

Philip. But it's serious, too, isn't it? Just think. We meet in a boarding 
house where I belong and you don't. Naturally I fall in love with you because 
you're a splendid, beautiful girl, and all of a sudden, bang, you've promised to 
marry me. Don't you see how serious it is ? 

Margaret. {Amused) Ha, ha- You big strong, nice man. Why do you say 
I don't belong in a boarding house? 

Philip. Because you're a lady, you never lived in a boarding house before, 
did you ? 

Margaret. N— no. 

Philip. You were never brought up to earn your living. Were you ? 

Margaret. N— no. 

Philip. I knew it. That's what I was thinking about last night. And I 
want to tell you, darling, you haven't made any mistake. {With emotion) You 
see — I - I never loved a woman before and- this means everything to me. 
I'm only a working man, but I'm going to rise, it's in me, I know it, and if 
you'll trust me— 

Margaret. I do trust you. 

Philip. I can do anything if I have you to work for, anything. I've had a 
wonderful feeling of power lately and- {Eagerly) Margaret, I'll gain the big 
prizes for you, money prizes, if you want them. 

Margaret. I don't want money. That's why I took up nursing, because 
my family insisted on my marrying a stupid idler who happened to be rich. 
{Earnestly) Listen, dear. I love you because you are working for something 
better than money, because you have noble ideals and because you give time 
and thought to helping the poor. 

Philip. {Confidently) We'll help the poor in a big way, you and I, before we 
get through. It makes me wild to think of the luxury and misery right here in 
New York City. 
Margaret. {Glowing) Ah, that makes me love you. {Sound of chime whistle is 

heard outside in the street. T^hilip turns toward window) 

Philip. It's Gentle. {Margaret looks blank) You know, my friend at the 
boarding house. 



Margaret. Oh, Mr. Gentle? (Whistle sounds again) Is he doing that ? 
Philip. It's a whistle we use on the wrecking boats. He wants to knov/ if 
I'm here. {Goes to window, opens it and makes a signal. Then he closes the mindow.) 

Margaret. I think he has a fine face, Mr. Gentle. 

Philip. He's been like a father to me, I owe everything to him. You see 
my mother died when I was twelve years old. 

Margaret. And your father? (Philip's face darkened.) 

Philip. I never knew my father. (Jl knock is heard. Philip goes to door and 
opens it. Enter Gentle. Gentle is a man of fift^-fioe, of medium height and build. He 
has a gra\; beard and fine k'ndly eyes. He is simply dressed.) 

Gentle. (With cheery manner) Ah, I'm glad to find you. Good morning, Miss 
Lawrence. 

Margaret. Good morning. 

Gentle. (To Philip) I've just seen the captain. He says you can have to-day 
off. 

Philip. But the barge is in the east river ? 

Gentle. She's sunk in thirty feet. Atkinson and I can get the chains under 
her when the tide turns. I told the Captain this was a special day for you. 
Ha, ha! (He looks at Margaret) 

Margaret. (To Philip in a whisper) Does he know? 

Gentle. Yes, yes, I know. Philip has no secrets from me. And such a 

secret. Ha, ha! (He takes a hand of each with fatherly air) My children ! (To 
Margaret) You know he is like a son to me. 

Margaret. (Sweetly) Then I'll be like a daughter. 

Gentle. My daughter Margaret. 

Margaret. Yes. 

Gentle. (Thoughtfully) His mother's name was Margaret. 

Margaret. Really ? 

Gentle. His mother would be very happy at the choice her boy has made. 

Philip. (With feeling) That's true. 

Margaret. (Touched) How dear of you to say that! 

Philip. (Gravely to Gentle) Gentle I wish you would tell Margaret about the 
night when you first saw my mother. 

Gentle. You mean that night when she came to Mrs. Binney's boarding 
house ? 

Philip. Yes. (To Margaret) I want you to know. 

Margaret. (To Gentle) Please tell me about it. 

Gentle. It was twenty-two years ago, a wild night and bitter cold. Mrs. 
Binney and I were playing checkers in the basement sitting-room when all of a 
sudden we heard the bell. "Sakes alive, who's that?" said Mrs. Binney. 
"I'll go and see," said I. And when I opened the door, there stood a woman in 
in the storm holding a little boy by his hand and she was white as death. "God 
have mercy," said I. "What are you doing out in a night like this?" "We're 
in great trouble," said she. "Come in," said I, "in the name of God," and in 



9 

they came and I saw that the little boy was so cold that the tears were frozen 
on his face. {He pauses and points to Philip) That little boy was Philip. 

Margaret. Oh! 

Gentle. He was barely four years old. 

Philip. And to this day I have never heard what sent my mother out into 
that storm. 

Margaret. {To Philip) She never told you? 

Philip. Never. She died with her secret unspoken. {He pauses in deep 
thought) That is unless— {He turns appealingly to Gentle) Gentle, I have sometimes 
thought my mother told you her secret. 

Gentle, {hesitatingly) She— er she told me a little, Phil. 

Philip. She did? And you've kept it from me? 

Gentle. {G.avely) There are things she did not wish you to know. 

Philip. But— {Peremptory tone) Is the thing you are keeping back something 
that this girl, who is my wife, ought to know ? 

Gentle. No ! 

Philip. {With a sigh of relief) Ah! (To Margaret) It's something about my 
father. Some trouble between him and my mother. {To Gentle) Isn't it? 

Gentle. Don't ask me about your father, Phil. {Enter Emmy) {She takes a 
broken chair and carries it back toward the bedroom. Margaret runs to her quickly) 

Margaret. You poor, forlorn, little waif ! What do you want with that 
chair ? {Emmy puts dorsn chair) 

Emmy. Want to play yacht with it. 

Margaret. Play yacht? What's that? 

Emmy. {Superior tone) Don't ye know what a yacht is? We're chasin' Injuns 
t-n a yacht. I'm de Captain. 

Margaret. And what's your little brother? 

Emmy. Benny? He owns de yacht, 'cause he's sick. He's a damned 
millionaire. 

Philip. {Reprovingly) Why, Emmy ! 

Emmy. {Stoutly) Dat's what Moran said. He said John J. is a damned 
millionaire, dat's what he said. 

Margaret. {Hiding her amusement) John J. ? 

Emmy. Sure ! Ain't ye never heard o' John J. Haggleton ? {This name d.am 
Gentle f am his reverie) 

Gentle. {IVith a start) John J. Haggleton? 

Margaret. {Also startled) John J. Haggleton ? 

Philip. ( To Emmyi) What about him ? 

Emmy. Why he's de richest guy ever. He's our landlord. Ye ought to hear 
Benny playin' "John J." "Bring up de damned Injuns and cut off der heads," 
says Benny. 

Philip. {Smiling) Benny's got the Haggleton idea all right. 

Margaret. I must look after that child. {To Emmy,) Come, Captain, we'll 

see about the Injuns. {She takes Emma's hand and moves towa.d bedroom) 



10 



Philip. {Following her) You'll find things in a dreadful state. Let me help you. 

Margaret. (Gayl:)) Those Injuns ! Ha ! Ha ! {To Philip) Yes, come and 
help me. 

Philip. {Turning to Gentle) Much obliged, Gentle, for fixing my day off . Going 
down to the boat now ? 

Gentle. {Preoccupied) Not yet. I— er— I'm expecting someone. 

Philip. Ah! {Opening bedroom door) Now, ladies! {Emmy goes in first, then Philip 
stands a moment facing Margaret with a light of love in his eyes) My darling ! 

Margaret. My boy ! (Exit Philip and Margaret into bedroom. Gentle remains alone 
and shows in pantomime, hy looking at his Watch, etc., that something very important is about 
to happen. Presently) the sound of an automobile horn is heard from the street, followed by a 
step on the stair. Gentle goes to door and opens it.) 

Gentle. {Standing at door) Come in Mr. Haggleton. Enter John J. Haggleton 
Haggleton is a man of large frame, spare of build, pale of face. His mouth is wide, 
close shut, flexible, clean shaven lips. His nose is largi, eyes of a strange steelly blue, 
forehead high and massive. He is sixty years old but looks older. He is Wiinkled, he is bald, 
he is evidently) ill, yet one feels the p.esence of an extraordinary personality). In him and about 
him seems to breathe a spirit of domination. He speaks in a ha sh, metallic voice. He is in 
rough yachting dress.) 

Haggleton. {Looking about the room in disgust) Of all filthy places ! 

Gentle. It's one of your tenements, sir. I wanted you to see it. 

Haggleton. That's not the point. You said you had papers to show me. 

Gentle. {Amiabh) So I have, so I have. {He dtaws foiward a chaii) Sit down. 
{Haggleton looks suspiciously at the chair, takes out handkerchief and dusts it off, then he sits 
down in a state of nervous irritability) 

Haggleton. I have very little time. My automobile is waiting, and my 
yacht, too, with guests aboard. I told you I sail within an hour. 

Gentle. On a long cruise. I read it in the papers. That's why I called on 
ycu yesterday. 

Haggleton. We could have settled this business at my house or at my 
office. 

Gentle. (Qu/e/Zy) You're mistaken. The place to settle this business 
IS — here. {He draws a bundle of papers from his pocket, selects several letters and hands 
them to Haggleton who looks at them eagerly and with growing surprise.) 

Haggleton. {IVith controlled emotion) My wife! It's her writing! Then you 
knew my wife? 

Gentle. {Nodding) I knew her for years. {Haggleton sits nith hands clenched and 
with other signs of emotion, but presently controls himself and speaks quietly;.) 

Haggleton. Go on. Tell me about her. How was my wife living when you 
knew her? 

Gentle. In the boarding house where I was. She had a little money, bdt it 
didn't last long. Then she tried to work, but it wasn't easy, and— I was earning 
good wages and— I helped her. 

Haggleton. You helped her ? Why ? 



11 



Gentle. (Simply) I loved her. I wanted to marry her. 

Haggleton. Good Lord ! 

Gentle. That's how she came to tell me her story. 

Haggleton. What did she tell you? (Sharply) What did she tell you about me? 
Gentle. (Business-like tone) She said you were cruel in your dealings, consumed 
with greed for money. That is why she left you. 

Haggleton. (Reflective) That is why she left me ? 

Gentle. Yes. 

Haggleton. But my son, my little boy. Why did she take him ? Why did 
she steal him away ? 

Gentle. To save him from your influence. He was her son, too. She 
wanted him to be an honest man. 

Haggleton. An honest man ? Who says I'm not an honest man? 

Gentle. Your wife said so. 

Haggleton. (Waving this aside) We'll come back to that later, I— I— want to 
know about my son. (IVith tenible self-control) You said he is— living? 

Gentle. Living and well. 

Haggleton. (Half to himself) Ah ! My son that was lost. That little, curly- 
headed fellow. I'm to see him again. I'm to see him now. (Authoritative tone) 
Where is he ? Why don't you send for him ? 

Gentle. You'll see him presently. 

Haggleton. (Studying Gentle keenly) Ah ! You want to make terms. You 
want money ? 

Gentle. No. 

Haggleton. Come, come, I understand. You've done me a service, Mr. 
Gentle, a great service, you've given me my son and — 

Gentle. Not yet. 

Haggleton. I say you've done me a service and it's right I should pay for 
it, yes, and pay handsomely. 

Gentle. (Shaking his head) If I wanted money I should have asked for it long 
ago. I've had these letters and papers for twelve years, Mr. Haggleton, ever 
since your wife died, and all that time I have earned my living as a poor man. 

Haggleton. Twelve years! (Accusing) For twelve years you have kept my 
son from me? 

Gentle. It was his mother's wish. Her command. 

Haggleton. Then why have you told me now? Why have you brought me 
here? (Suspiciously) If ycu don't want money, what the devil do you want? 

Gentle. One moment. I'll make it all clear. You understand I was in 
your wife's confidence. I was the only one who knew the truth about Philip. 

Haggleton. Philip! That's his name! She kept his name! 

Gentle. She kept his Christian name with the name she assumed; she 
called him Philip Ames. 

Haggleton. Philip Ames! And he knows nothing of this ? Nothing of me? 

Gentle. Nothing. But let me finish. Your wife lived for years among the 



12 



very poor, she saw the facts of want and suffering face to face, and it was her 
dream that some day this boy should make atonement for your wrong-doing. 

Haggleton. (Sharply) Atonement? How atonement? 

Gentle. Through your money. By the right use of it. Some day, when 
she was strong enough, Philip was to meet you, to know you as his father, 
and— 

Haggleton. (Snapping bis fingers) I see. He was to show me my evil ways 
and I was to be converted and fall on his neck. Rubbish! You've made a 
prig of him. 

Gentle. No, a man. 

Haggleton. He doesn't live in this place? 

Gentle. Of course not. He lives in a decent boarding house— where I live. 

Haggleton. What does he do? What can he earn? 

Gentle. He's a skilled workman with the Atlantic Wrecking Company. 
A diver. 

Haggleton. A diver? 

Gentle. A master-diver. He earns from eight to fifteen dollars a day. 

Haggleton. Ah! 

Gentle. He stands six feet in his stockings, and he's got an arm like an iron bar. 

Haggleton. You don't say! 

Gentle. And a will of his own. And ideas. You'll see. 

Haggleton. What sort of ideas? 

Gentle. Ideas his mother gave him, ideas of justice and kindness. She was 
a fine woman, his mother, a noble woman. 

Haggleton. Yes, yes, but she never understood business. She was all 
wrong about business. 

Gentle. She didn't believe that one man should make slaves of thousands 
and take their earnings. Neither does Philip. 

Haggleton. So that's the sort of thing you've taught him. I'll soon 
change that. (Gentle smiles) You don't think I can? 

Gentle. What I have taught him is little; what life and misery have taught 
him he can never fcrget. I tell you he's a man. 

Haggleton. He's the son of John J. Haggleton, the only son, with great 
things to do in this world. 

Gentle. Exactly. 

Haggleton. I mean great interests to protect. A great fortune to handle. 
(He pauses with a conlewplucus gesture) What will he think of ycur pretty theories 
when he knows who he is? 

Gentle. (Reflective) When he knows who he is, then what? How often I've 
asked myself that ! Pretty theories ! I think he'll stick to them, Mr. 
Haggleton, I think so. (Enter Philip from bedroom) 

Philip. (Glancing carelessly at Haggleton) Excuse me. (Philip goes to k'tchen alcove 
and begins searching for something. He looks on shelves, in litter of dishes and pans. Pie 
opens various boxes and cupboards, all the time angrily tallying to himself. He pa})S no 



13 

attention to Haggleton or Gentle. Haggleton starts to his feet as Philip enters and follows his 
movements with absorbed interest. Gentle observes both Philip and Haggleton) (To himself) 
I wish the scoundrel who owns this fiat had to Hve in it. {Bus. for Haggleton and 
Gentle.) I'd Hke to make him sleep in that bedroom. (He rattles two or three 
boxes) Damnation? Where is the hammer? Ah! (He finds hammer under stove) 
And the nails? Now then! (He moves toward bedroom carrying hammer and nails) 
Poor little shaver, how can he get well in a hole like this. (Exit Philip into bed- 
room. Haggleton stands looking after him, his face showing intense emotion. Then he turns 
to Qentle and speaks with decision) 

Haggleton. You needn't tell me. I want no proof. I know. I know the 
eyes, I know the chin, but especially the eyes. For twenty years I haven't 
slept V/ithout seeing those eyes. It's he. (Sound of hammering from bedroom) 

Gentle. Yes. 

Haggleton. (With a glad cry) My son ! (He starts toward bedroom) 

Gentle. Stop! {Haggleton turns in surprise) If you speak to him now, you'll 
regret it. 

Haggleton. Why shouldn't I speak to him.^ I'm going to tell him who he 
is. I'm going to take him with me on my yacht. 

Gentle. Oh, no. (Haggleton is impressed by Gentle's air of quiet confidence and comes 
hack to him) 

Haggleton. What do you mean? I am his father who has been cheated of 
his son's love for twenty years. Who are you to say what I shall or shall not 
do? 

Gentle. His mother thought you were not fit to guide him twenty years 
ago. You must prove to me that you are now. (Gentle draws from his pocket and 
selects a folded document which he hands to Haggleton. (Pleasantly) Suppose you glance 
over this. (Haggleton lakes document reads it through carefull}) — his face betrays no emotion 
but his fingers clutch the paper tight) 

Haggleton. (In an awestruck whisper) My God ! 

Gentle. Now you understand how things are between you and me? 

Haggleton. (Looking at document) My wife made this document on her 
death bed ? 

Gentle. Yes. With a clear mind. The doctor attests it. 

Haggleton. (In great agitation) The order I gave that night— a copy. 

Gentle. The original is in a safe place. I suggest that you dismiss the 
idea of buying it. It's not for sale. 

Haggleton. What are you going to do with this document ? 

Gentle. You wouldn't want Philip to read it? 

Haggleton. (With agitation) No! No! 

Gentle. Then I shall use it to increase your patience. You must be content 
to see your son and be with him on my terms. Which provide, for the present, 
that he shall not know you as his father. 

Haggleton. It isn't fair. It isn't fair to him. 

Gentle. I will be judge of that. 



14 



Haggleton. Besides, how can I see him or be with him if he doesn 't know 
who I am? 

Gentle. Show an interest in the problems of poverty, in tenement house 
reform, and PhiHp will spend his days and nights with you. 

Haggleton. Tenement house reforms? But I 'm going away. I 'm sailing 
on my yacht. There! (Automobile horn sounds in sired) It's my secretary. Time 
is passing. 

Gentle. Philip will be here when you return from your cruise. 

Haggleton. When I return from my cruise in three months? Ah, you've 
never had a son! And lost him! And then found him! 

Gentle. (Gravely;) I must put this boy 's welfare before your feelings. I've 
loved him for years. I've trained him for a struggle with you! A great 
struggle that is coming now, and I '11 see that the start is fair. 

Haggleton. What struggles are you talking about? 

Gentle. A struggle between your money and his high purpose. You'll try 
to tempt him, I know it. You'll try to make him hard and worldly. That's 
why I've waited. He's only twenty-six and he's your son. 

Haggleton. Ah! 

Gentle. But he's his mother's son. too, in a way he's my son and he's ready 
for the test. I 'm sure of him. 

Haggleton. We'll see. (Gentle moves toward bedroom) 

Gentle. I'll introduce you as— er— Mr. Jackson. (Gentle opens bedroom door, 
calling) Phil ! (Haggleton bus. of agitation and controlled emotion. Enter Phil. Has taken 
off his hat and rolled up his shirt sleeves, showing fine bronzed arms) 

Philip. What is it? I'm trying to make this room fit for the little kid to 
sleep in. (He glances indifferently) at Haggleton) 

Gentle. I want you to know a friend of mine, Mr. Jackson. Mr. Jackson 
is interested in tenement house problems. 

Philip. How are you? (He shakes hands mth Haggleton) If you want problems 
you've struck the right place. This is Lung Block. The man who owns it is 
just starting off on a cruise in his million dollar yacht. 

Haggleton. You mean Mr. Haggleton ? 

Philip. Yes, the doctors say he needs a change. I wonder what his tenants 
need ? , 

Haggleton. (Looking about the room) 1 should say the ones who live here need to 
buy some soap and not so many marble clocks. (Philip looks at Haggleton in surprise) 

Philip. Are you a friend of Mr. Haggleton's? Do you know him? 

Haggleton. Why— er— yes. 

Philip. (Incredulous) You know him personally? You can't know him 
personally ? 

Gentle. Mr. Jackson has been helping Mr. Haggleton in schemes for tenement 
improvements. 

Philip. I'd like to tell Mr. Haggleton a few things about tenement 
improvements. 



15 



Haggleton. (To Philip) What would you say to Mr. Haggleton ? 

Philip. {Aroused) I'd tell him he owns blocks and blocks on the lower East 
Side which are in such a lovely state that he might as well be running a factory 
for turning out— {He checks himself) What's the use ? 

Haggleton. Go on. A factory for turning out— ? 

Philip. (Slowl\), looking Haggleton full in the face) Thieves— and drunkards and— 

wrecks of women. (Enter Margaret from bedroom. Margaret looks at Philip and does 
not notice Haggleton) 

Margaret. (To Philip) I must go now, really I must. I have other calls to 
make and the child is sleeping. I will come back this evening. (She turns and 
sees Haggleton, with a start of surprise) Oh ! 

Philip. You know Mr. Jackson? 
Margaret. Mr. Jackson? 

Philip. He is interested in tenement house reforms. (Margaret looks scornfully 
at Haggleton) 

Margaret. Indeed he is not! He's interested in cruel scheYnes of plunder 
and his name is not Jackson. 

Philip. What ? 

Margaret. Don 't you know who he is ? Don't you recognize that face? 

Philip. (Puzzled) Why— er— It seems to me I do. (Starling in amazement) 
John J. Haggleton ! 

Margaret. The cruelest, wickedest man in America! 

Philip. (To Haggleton) Are you Mr. Haggleton? 

Haggleton. (Quietly) Yes. Who is this young woman? (Philip goes quickly 

to Margaret, then he turns to Haggleton) 

Philip. This young woman, sir, is the girl I love. 

Haggleton. Hm ! What's she got against me ? 

Margaret. (To Haggleton) You'll know that when 1 tell you my name. (She 
draws herself up proudly) I am Margaret Lawrence. 

Haggleton. (Thinking) Lawrence? Lawrence? Not the daughter of— ? 

(He looks at her ^een/p) 

Margaret. The daughter of William Lawrence, the man you ruined and 
dishonored. 

Haggleton. Nonsense! Sit down. Miss Lawrence. 

Margaret. No. (She takes her coat and hat from chair) 

Haggleton. I want to explain to you— 

Margaret. (Agitated) I won't listen to you. I won't stay in the same room 
with you. 

Philip. (Turning comfortingly to Margaret) Never mind him. Let me help you. 
(He assists her to put on her coat) I will meet you at luncheon. (He goes to the door 
and opens it) Good-bye, dear. 

Margaret. (Fondly— aside) Good-bye, Phil. I don't care who your father 

is, I love you. (Exit Margaret) 

Philip. (To Haggleton) Now then. I don't know what you are doing here 



16 



under a false name, but— {He turns to Gentle) Did you think his name was 
Jackson? 

Gentle. {Shaking his head) I had a reason for introducing Mr. Haggleton in 
that way. 

Haggleton. A very simple reason. I want to study tenement conditions 
without newspaper notoriety. 

Philip. Oh! 

Haggleton. It's not pleasant to be called cruel and wicked, either. 

Philip. It's not pleasant for a girl to meet the man who ruined her father. 

Haggleton. That's another story. Her father was the president of an 
opposition oil refinery and, in the course of business, er— 

Philip. (Dryl^) You crushed him. You destroyed him. I understand. {He 
pauses for a moment and then bursts out fiercel})) My God, why can't you men be 
decent ? 

Haggleton. Business is business. 

Philip. What a rotten idea. You can lie and steal, plunder people and 
break their hearts, and if you say "business is business" then it is all right? 

Gentle. {Rubbing his hands) Ah! 

Haggleton. You've been reading "the muck-rakers." 

Philip. Why not? 

Haggleton. All rich men are robbers, eh? 

Philip. I don't say that. 

Haggleton. If I had a daughter, she'd be a princess? 

Philip. Probably. 

Haggleton. And my son would be a fool? 

Philip. No doubt. 

Haggleton. And reformers care nothing about money ? And the Editor of 
the Evening Journal takes no interest in his salary, eh? 

Philip. Even reformers have to live. 

Haggleton. {Grimly) Listen to me, young man, there isn't a reformer in 
this country who wouldn't stop reforming damned quick if he found it was 
hurting his pocket book. 

Philip. {With fire) That's false! Besides, it has nothing to do with the 
question. The question is, where do you get your money, you rich men? Do 
you earn it? Do you dig it out of the ground? No! You get it by the toil of 
men, by the tears of women and children; you get it by grinding human beings 
down to starvation wages and taking the rest, millions and millions that belong 
to the workers, Mr. Haggleton, but go into your fat pockets because you're 
strong enough and cruel enough to take it. {There is a knock- Gentle goes to door 
and speaks to some one in the hall) 

Gentle. Your secretary says there is no time to lose if you want to sail 
with the tide. 

Haggleton. Tell him I'll be down shortly. {To Philip) Goon. 

Philip. What's the use? You can't tackle the problems of poverty while 



17 



your yacht waits. 

Haggleton. I can give certain orders, can't I? I can authorize certain 
improvements ? Now talk quick. 

Philip. That's the way with you rich people. You think you can settle 
everything by signing a check. Well, you can't do it. The only real help for 
the poor comes through love, and you can't pay someone to love for you. You 
might as well pay someone to eat for you or breathe for you, or sleep for you. 
You've got to do your loving yourself. 

Haggleton. {Startled- half to himself) I never thought of that. You^ve got 

to do your loving yourself. (Looks intently at Philip for some moments, when suddenly 
his face lights up as a new idea comes to him) Ah! (From this point to the end of the act, 
Haggleton shows in pantomime as he talks with Philip and Gentle that he is thinking of some- 
thing else and is Weighing the pros and cons before coming to an important decision) Alter 
all, there must be a lot of these people who are not worth loving. They bring 
misfortunes upon themselves. I say the average man can conquer these tene- 
ment conditions if he will work and save and be patient. I know what 
I'm talking about! I started in a tenement myself. 

Gentle. That was years ago. 

Philip. Conditions have changed since then. 

Haggleton. Not a bit. A man with the right stuff in him can win out 
against poverty just as well to-day as he ever could. 

Philip. (Incredulous) A man like Moran? 

Haggleton. Who's Moran? 

Philip. He's your tenant here. He's a baker. (Haggleton gels up and walks 
about the room thinking hard— Gentle watches him curiouslyi) 

Haggleton. (Sha.ply) He can't be much good if this is the way he keeps 
his home. 

Philip. He's half sick. 

Haggleton. Half sick ? So am I half sick. That's why the doctors have 
ordered me away on this yachting trip. (He continues to rralk back and forth) How 
much does Moran earn ? 

Philip. Nine dollars a week. 

Haggleton. (After a pause) Do you know what I'd do in Moran's place? 

Philip. Yes. In Moran's place, you'd do about as he does. 

Haggleton. You think so ? 

Philip. I'm sure of it. 

Haggleton. (Half to himself) If I only had time ! (Long pause as he walks about 
the room glancing keenly at Philip now and then) DoeS Moran own all this truck ? 

Philip. Yes. 

Haggleton. (Studying furniture) Not a bad old hatstand, but it's in the 
way. We ought to get something on these marble clocks. And we don't need 
this sewing machine. H-m. (He continues to walk about absoibed in his thoughts. 
Presently he steps close to 'Philip— abruptly) How much money have you saved? 

Philip. (Surprised) Why— er— about three hundred dollars. 



18 



Haggleton. Three hundred dollars? And we can get fifty or sixty for use- 
less stuff in this room. Say three hundred and fifty. Three hundred and fifty 
dollars ! We can conquer the world with that. I started in New York with a 
dollar and a quarter. 

Philip. What are you driving at? 

Haggleton. See here, are you two willing to let me work this thing out my 

own way ? (Haggleton 's manner is confident, his eyes flash With authority, he is c/uite master 
of the situation) 

Gentle. (With meaning) I am willing. 

Philip. I don't understand. 

Haggleton. Get me some paper. I want to write the captain of my yacht. 
I am going to tell him to sail at once as arranged, without me. 

Gentle. Without you ? 

Haggleton. I shall instruct him to let no one know, under any circumstance 
that I am not aboard the yacht. 

Philip. (In amazement) You're not going on the yacht? 

Haggleton. (Slowly and impressively;,) No. I'm going to stay here. I'm going 
to win a little bet I've made with your friend, Mr. Gentle. And I'm going to 
show you what John J. Haggleton would do if he had to hustle in a tenement 
without a dollar. 

CURTAIN. 

END OF ACT FIRST. 



THE BATTLE." 



ACT 11. 

SCENE: The same as in Act I. except that the whole place has been made clean 
and attractive. All the rubbish has been cleared away. The floor has been 
scrubbed and covered with matting and the walls have been painted white. 
There are several tables with neat covers, lamps with pretty shades, books, etc., 
everything showing good taste. The filthy folding-beds are gone and in their 
place are two comfortable divans with bright covers. The windows are hung 
with neat white curtains. A sink in the corner L. and shelves R. are concealed 
by swinging doors covered with cloth and decorated with rough embroidery. 
The cheap pictures have been taken down and all around the walls, about six 
feet from the floor, is a line of shelves on which are placed in good order, 
various dishes, cooking utensils, bundles of clothing, carefully folded, and boxes 
of various things, previously strewn about the room. These shelves are covered 
with wide strips of dark brown denim, which conceal the articles on the shelves, 
but give access to them by sliding along on iron rods fixed above shelves. In 
other words, the whole place has been put in order and made clean and reason- 
ably attractive. The picture of diver is still on the wall. 

TIME: Ten o'clock on a pleasant, sunshiny day. A week has elapsed since Act 1. 

DISCOVERED: Joe Caffrey, heller dressed, is slanding on rolling slep-ladder such as 
libi-arians use, arranging on shelves various arlicles which Jenny passes to him. Jenny is slill 
in black,. 

Jenny. (Handing up packages) Castile soap. Hand Sapolio. 'Bad for Bugs. ' 
Say, Joe, he's a wonder. 

Joe. (Arranging packages on shelves) 'Bad on Bugs.' I suppose you mean 
Mr. Jackson. 

Jenny. That's who I mean. (Joe lums and sils on lop of ladder, slowly surveying 
room.) 

Joe. You're right, he is a wonder. 

Jenny. He's only been here a week and— look at this room. (An eld fashioned 

visible spring bell over bedroom door rings and vibrales sharply, pulled by a wire) There he is now. 
He wants his hot bath. (Joe comes quickh down slep-ladder) He was out all night 
with Moran in that rotten bake-shop. Get a clean towel. (Joe goes lo om of ihe 



20 



divans, lifts the end and draws from underneath a full sized green painted bathtub that rolls on 
rubber wheels. He pushes this over to the swinging door that hides sink, opens door and proceeds 
to let cold water run into tub. Jenny pushes step-ladder along row of shelves and gets towels) 

Jenny. (From step-ladder) What did he spend the night in the bakeshop for, Joe? 

Joe. To study the job. He says we don't know how to make bread. You 
ought to have heard him ! Moran said: "I suppose you're going to show us how 
to run this bakeshop, Mr. Jackson?" He thought he'd kid him a little, but 
Jackson snapped his teeth like an old wolf. "Yes, " said he, "That's what I'm 
going to do. ' ' (During this speech Joe has poured hot water from the stove into bath tuh) 

Jenny. He'll do it, too. Here's your towel. {She puts towel over Joe's arm, Joe 
rolls steaming bath tub to bedroom door, knocks, opens door and pushes tub inside. He presently 
reappears) 

Joe. a bottle of tooth powder and a clean shirt. 

Jenny. (Shaking her head) Three shirts in a week ! (Briskly pointing to shelves) 
Tooth powder there by the plates. Shirt in the gents' furnishing goods, next 
to ladies' Underware. (She points. Joe using ladder, gets articles in question and takes 
them into bedroom. Presently he returns with an air of importance, carrying shirt) 

Joe. He says I'm to wear this shirt myself. And, beginning to-day, 1 draw 
ten dollars a week, if I cut out pool rooms. 

Jenny. Ten dollars a week ? How? 

Joe, In a new bakery scheme. 

Jenny. Ten dollars a week! That's the scheme he's been talking to Phil 
about. 

Joe. Phil seems to take a lot of interest in Mr. Jackson. He's here most of 
the time. (Jenn\) is silent, her eyes on the picture of diver.) 

Jenny. (Thinking) Yes, he's here most of the time. (Pause) Remember 
what I told you, Joe? 

Joe. About Phil? Sure, Little Jenny wants him for herself. (He turns to 
picture) And if she can't have him for herself, then— then the trained nurse 
lady had better look out. 

Jenny. (Eagerly) What time is it? 

Joe. (Going to window) The factory clock says half past ten. 

Jenny. Listen! Phil and Gentle will be here pretty soon. They're 
going out with Mr. Jackson. Now, you must help me. I want to be alone 
with Phil, I have a little idea and— er— 

Joe. Go on, my resourceful sister-in-law. You can 't shock me. 

Jenny. I want you to write Phil a note, saying you're in great trouble and 
must see him at once. Tell him you're waiting here and everything 
depends on his not losing a minute. And tell him to come alone. 

Joe. But— 

Jenny. Hang around outside until Phil goes out with the others. Then send 
some little boy after him with the note. That's all. 

Joe. I see. Phil gets the note and hurries back to find poor Joe in his trouble 
and instead of that he finds lovely Jenny in a wrapper. Ha, ha I 



21 

Jenny. I hadn't thought about the wrapper. That's a good point. 

Joe. But why make me write the note ? Why not write it yourself ? 

Jenny. If I wrote the note he wouldn't come alone. (IVith feeling) Joe, he 
seems afraid to be alone with me. 

Joe. (Wisely) Ah? {Pause) What do I get out of this? 

Jenny. You had two dollars the other day. 

Joe. Yes, but— that horse 'Wild Cherry' was a goat. Now to-day I have a 
sure tip and— Jenny, could you lend me a dollar? Only lend it? You know I'll 
have money now myself. 

Jenny. (Opening her purse) Here's your dollar. (She gives it to him) You'll 
make the note strong? 

Joe. Don't you worry, I'll write it now. {He moves toward door) I'll write it 
on Salvation Army hotel paper. That'll bring him sure. {He pauses at door and 
winks gravel})) This is my last flyer, Jenny, before I settle down to business. 
{Pantomime of jockey riding a horse. Exit Joe. Jenny stands looking at picture of diver 
with pantomime of sadness, yearning and fieice purpcse. Enter Hagglelon from bedroom. 
He is plainly dressed. He stands silently at door observing Jenny. ) 

Haggleton. Ahem ! 

Jenny. {Turning) Ah, Mr. Jackson! 

Haggleton. {Looking at picture) He's a fine young fellow, eh? 

Jenny. Phil? That's what he is, but if anybody tells you he's easy to 
understand — 

Haggleton. Gentle seems to understand him. 

Jenny. Gentle thinks he does, but— (She smiles brightly) Say you've got 
Gentle worried allright. 

Haggleton. I? How? 

Jenny. Oh, with all this bakeshop business. Before you came it was nothing 
but wrongs of the poor, now it's nothing but money-making schemes. 

Haggleton. {Pleased) You think Philip is interested ? 

Jenny. Interested? You know he's interested. Why yesterday Gentle was 
trying to talk tenement reform to Phil and Phil hardly listened. He said he was 
figuring out the profits of some electric machine you told him about for kneading 
bread. 

Haggleton. Ha, ha, ha ! Good ! 

Jenny. I never saw Phil that way and— er— Oh. never mind ! 

Haggleton. Go on. 

Jenny. Well, you see I— er— I— er— 

Haggleton. You like him. 

Jenny. Like him ? I love him. (Pause) And this sort of encourages me. 

Haggleton. (With growing interest) How so? 

Jenny. Why, you've made me see that there are two Philips, (She points to 
picture) the one Gentle knows and another one. You've begun to wake up the 
other Philip, so why shouldn't I do the same ? 

Haggleton. Hm! Wake up the other Philip. (Pause) But he loves this 



22 



trained nurse. 

Jenny. I toll you there are two Phillips. One of them loves her, but— 
what's the matter with the other Philip loving me ? 

Haggleton. {Half to himsdj) Two Philips! That's a strange fancy. 

Jenny. Fancy? It's a fact. I'll prove it. 

Haggleton. Do you really think you can win him away from this girl? 

Jenny. {Wisely) Do you really think you can win him away from Gentle? 

Haggleton. I don't know. 

Jenny. I don't know either, but there's going to be a pretty little fight and 
when we get through he'll know he's been in it. What do you think? 

Haggleton. (Smiling grimly) A pretty little fight! Perhaps so! I think it 
very likely. (Chime whistle is heard outside) 

Jenny. There's Gentle, he'll be coming up. (She goes to window and waves her 
hand) I suppose I'd better fix your room. 

Haggleton. Yes. Put up fresh curtains and— (He thinks a moment) Oh, the 
butter we use should be cut up in small squares. There's less waste. And we 
must get our coal by the ton. It costs twice as much by the bucketful. I'll 
see about storing it and— (He thinks again) Let's see, you earned five dollars a 
week sewing neckties? 

Jenny. Yes. 

Haggleton. We can afford to give you eight. And if you will let me know 
quietly how things are going why— er— (He looks at picture) 

Jenny. (Promptly) I'll let you know. (Jenny walks to bedroom door and turns) Say, 

Mr. Jackson, I don't know what your little game is, but it looks to me as if you 
knew how to play it. (Exit Jenny into bedroom. Haggleton walks about the room inspect- 
ing things and finally stands in serious meditation with his eyes fixed on Philip 's picture. A 
step ts heard in the hall and Haggleton turns toWa,d the door. Enter Gentle. He seems 
disturbed) 

Haggleton. Ah, Mr. Gentle. (He motions to chairs and they .sit down) What's 
the trouble? 

Gentle. I'll come straight to the point, Mr. Haggleton, as I eSxpect Philip 
shortly. 

Haggleton. He's coming to report on our bakeshop organization. 

Gentle. Ah ! You ask what the trouble is. There it is. We have nothing 
but bakeshops here, nothing but schemes for making money. I wanted you to 
study the problems of poverty with Philip. 

Haggleton. That was not the arrangement. You agreed that I should work 
this thing out in my own way. I'm a poor man hustling for a living. 

Gentle. A poor man ! It's a wonder no one has recognized you. 

Haggleton. The newspapers say I'm away on my yacht— and— who knows 
me down here? If one of those smart reporters happen to see me, he'd say: 
"Hello. There's an old baker who looks like John J. Haggleton." 

Gentle. I suppose so, but— what's the use of it ? 

Haggleton. The use? I'm going to win my son. And he's worth winning. 



23 



The more I see of him the better I Hke him. Besides, it's a lesson for all you 
kickers. A mighty good lesson. Look at this room and think what it was. 
(Pause while he studies room) By the way, what's the matter with joining these two 
little windows into one large observation window? We'll have the finest view 
in the city. 

Gentle. (Smiling) But the landlord ? 

Haggleton. The landlord never objects to changes that improve the property, 
if the tenant pays for them. We'll pay for that window. We can afford to. 
By to-morrow we'll control an organization of East Side bakeshops that's going 
to be very profitable. Wait till you hear Philip's report. 

Gentle. That's the point. Philip is demoralized. I hardly know him. 

Haggleton. You've never known him. You're just getting acquainted 
with him. He 's my son. 

Gentle. (Shaking his head) It's a temporary infatuation, nothing more. He 
is fascinated by the idea that John J. Haggleton has done this extraordinary 
thing. 

Haggleton. Yes, and he'll be more fascinated when he knows why John J. 
Haggleton did it. 

Gentle. And why did you do it? 

Haggleton. (Reflective) Why did I do it? Don't you know? 

Gentle. It was a clever move. 

Haggleton. (Shaking his head) No. It turned out to be a clever move. I'm 
gaining ground with the boy every day, but that's not why I did it. I'm sixty 
years old, Mr. Gentle, and used to my comforts. Do you think I'd stand all 
this because it was a clever move? No, sir. I stayed down here on account of 
a few little words that my son fired at me. Remember? Maybe you didn't 
notice. He looked me straight in the eyes and he said : 'You've got to do 
your loving yourself.' By God, that hit me hard ! I've been up against tough 
problems in my life and made some quick decisions, but I never did anything 
that surprised me as much as this. I'm not getting sentimental, I'm going to 
fight you for all I'm worth, Mr. Gentle, but when you've played your last card 
and told this boy the worst you can tell about me, then— anyhow he's got to 
know that his father came down here and lived in a tenement, (Slowly and 
impressioely) —because he wanted to do his loving himself. 

Gentle. All that does you honor, sir, and yet you would influence Philip 
to be hard and selfish. 

Haggleton. I want him to be a fine business man. 

Gentle. (Slowly) I want him to be a fine man. 

Haggleton. Hm! As far as that goes, I don't expect my son to be a 
business man and nothing else. I'm glad to have him study these problems 
of poverty and solve them, if he can. All I ask is that you and he be reason- 
able. Suppose we draw up a plan that will satisfy all of us. I won't give a 
dollar for sloppy, sentimental nonsense, but I'll put up a million, two millions, 
five millions, if we can work out some sound scheme of public betterment. 



24 



Gentle. (Impressed) Five millions ! 

Haggleton. Yes, sir. And I should want the work of carrying out such a 
scheme, the executive work, to be in your hands. 

Gentle. (Surprised) In my hands ? 

Haggleton. Precisely. You're honest and you mean to do right. That's a 
whole lot in these days. (Pause) It's a great chance for you. 

Gentle. Then Philip would know you as his father ? 

Haggleton. Of course. 

Gentle. And his mother? What about her ? 

Haggleton. (5/uJy/ng Gentle keenly) We will tell Philip there was trouble 
years ago between his mother and me. I'm willing to admit I was much in the 
wrong— absorbed in business, too keen about money. That ought to fix it. 

Gentle. Oh, no. 

HAGGLET"bN. Why not ? 

Gentle. Philip must know why he has been seperated from you all these 
years. 

Haggleton. I told you why, there was trouble between his mother and me. 

Gentle. That's too vague. He must know exactly what the trouble was. 

Haggleton. (Impatienl) You mean he must see that statement ? 

Gentle. (Gravely) I mean justice must be done to a noble woman or— he 
might come to hate her. (Pause) If it's a question between hating his mother 
and hating you — 

Haggleton. (Quickly) You'd sooner have him hate me. What good will 
that do ? Will it do you any good to have my son hate me ? Will it do him any 
good ? Will it do his dead mother any good ? ( With increasing feeling) Is that 
why you got me down here, is that why I'm living in a tenement, to have my 
son hate me? 

Gentle. (Taken aback) Why— er— 

Haggleton. You talk about my wife and the wrong I did. Well, I can't pay 
her for that wrong, she's dead. If I pay anybody I've got to pay the living, 
haven't I? 

Gentle. Exactly. 

Haggleton. I'm ready to pay the living, but we'll let it stop there. After 
all, that was what his mother wanted, to have Philip do good with his money. 
You said so yourself. Now he'll do more good than she ever dreamed of. I 
have a large fortune. I'll put aside— what did I say? Five millions? I'll put 
aside ten millions for a great battle against poverty. 
, Gentle. (In a-aestruck tones) Ten millions? 

Haggleton. But not one dollar unless I get my son. 

Gentle. (Moved) I'm surprised and— touched to hear you talk like this, 
but— (Perplexed) there still remains your wife's statement. 

Haggleton. (Persuasive) As long as her wish is accomplished without the 
statement, as long as you don't need it— 

Gentle. (IVavering) I see, You think I ought to— to destroy it? 



25 

Haggleton. Don't you? 

Gentle. I'm beginning to agree with you, but— {He hesitates and then changes 
suddenly) No, no. I must think of my duty to Philip. 

Haggleton. (Tempting) Think of the good you can do with that money. 
Ten million dollars! Think of the misery you can relieve. 

Gentle. I received this statement as a sacred trust. 

Haggleton. With a certain discretion as to using it. 

Gentle. {Douhlfut) Ye-es, but— {Again he changes) No, no. I can't take 
the responsibility. 

Haggleton. {Shrewdly) Suppose Philip preferred not to see this statement? 

Gentle. {Surprised) You mean you would leave the decision to him ? {A step 
is heard on the stairs) Ah, this may be he now. 

Haggleton. If the matter were presented fairly to him, he would respect 
our wishes. 

Gentle. {Shading his head) He would want to see his mother's statement. 

Haggleton. Not if you advised against it. {The step comes nearer) And you 
would advise against it ? 

Gentle. {Yielding) Under the circumstances I— I think I would. 

Haggleton. Then we'll leave it to him— when I say the word. {Enter Philip) 

Philip. Good morning. 

Haggleton. Well, did you succeed? 

Philip. {Nodding "\}es") I've got the electric kneading machine on credit 
with a hundred dollars paid down. {He sits down) 

Haggleton. That does the work of six men. And the flour? 

Philip. {Enthusiastic) The Wisconsin Flour Mills will furnish it to the com- 
bination at fifteen per cent off the jobbers' price. 

Haggleton. And accept thirty day notes from different bakers ? 

Philip. Exactly. No trouble about it at all. 

Haggleton. {To Gentle) You see we'll save on wages and materials. We'll 
do a bigger business because we'll sell better bread. And cheaper bread. 
{To Philip) How many bakers have come into the combination? 

Philip. Six so far, but we can get more. 

Haggleton. Get more? Within ten days all the little bakers on the East 
Side will be tumbling over themselves to get in. 

Philip. They've got to come in or— 

Gentle. Or what? 

Philip. Or go out of business. 

Gentle. {Gravely to Philip) Do you realize that you are building up a little 
trust ? That you will turn men out of work ? 

Philip. A few men. And we'll give better bread and cheaper bread to the 
whole East Side. 

Haggleton. What does Miss Lawrence think of this scheme ? 

Philip. She thinks it's fine. 

Gentle. {Reproving) Because you tell her it's fine. 



26 



Philip. I tell her we're benefiting the people— and we are. 

Haggleton. (Pleased) Ah ! And incidentally I am proving that a poor man 
like Moran can conquer these tenement conditions if he has any gumption. 
That's what I started out to do and I've done it. 

Philip. (Wondering) Yes, you've done it but— why have you done it? 

Haggleton. You'll know that before long. The point is in a month we'll 
have a prosperous business going here. (He thinks) Ah ! We'd better take 
that empty flat across the hall for sleeping rooms, we'll need this one for 
offices. 

Philip. I suppose we will. 

Haggleton. In a week you'll see Joe Caffrey at work in a clean shirt with 
pool rooms cut out and you'll hear no more ranting from Moran. 

Gentle. I doubt that. 

Haggleton. As long as a man has no money he's a kicker about the wrongs 
of the poor. Give him some money and he stops kicking. That's why 
socialists are poor. They have nothing to lose. 

Gentle. Some socialists are rich. 

Haggleton. Yes, parlor socialists, but they never earned the money them- 
selves. And I notice they hang on to it all right. 

Philip. (To Haggleton) Still, the main point is that things in this country 
are not fair between the rich and the poor. 

Haggleton. Not fair? I'll tell you how fair they are, there isn't a poor 
man in this country that's any good who can't better himself and leave his 
children comfortable. And if they're any good they can leave their children 
rich. Which is more than you can say of any country in the world. 

Gentle. But the big industries, the trusts? 

Haggleton. (Emphatic) They've built up this country, sir. 

Gentle. You can't deny that they oppress the people. 

Haggleton. (Snapping his fingers) What do you expect ? They're in business 
to make money. 

Philip. Ah, you admit that ? 

Haggleton. Certainly. It's true. It always has been true and it always 
will be true. You can't expect one class to fight the battles of another 
class. Why should they? Do you fight our battles? If you want us to run 
our railroads and mines and factories in a certain way, it's up to you to make us 
do it. You've got numbers and votes ; we've got money and organization. 
Well, there you are, it's a fight, class against class; you want to get rid of 
your grievances, we want to keep our privileges. Now go ahead, make laws, 
inspect our books, learn our secrets, put us in jail, do something, anything; 
but if you can't do anything, keep still, take your medicine, and don't come 
whining to us to play your game for you; we'll neoer do it, never; we're too busy 
playing our own game. (During this speech Moran enters and stands at the door listening 
in perplexity.) 

Moran. What's all this? 



27 

Gentle. (Smiling) A little argument. Mr. Jackson thinks— 

MoRAN. {Scowling at Haggleion) I know what Mr. J ackson thinks. Rethinks 
he can grab the whole bakeshop business of the East Side and throw hundreds 
of men like me out of work. 

Philip. Men like you? 

MoRAN. Yes, sir. My boss has joined your combination and I've had notice 
to quit. It's an outrage. (He turns fiercely to Haggleton) I say to you— 

Philip. Hold on ! 

Haggleton. (To Philip) Let me talk to him. (To Moran) See here, this 
combination is a good thing. 

MoRAN. It's a damned monopoly. 

Haggleton. (Aside to Philip) Now watch him. (To Moran) We'll make 
better bread and cheaper bread than has ever been sold on the East Side. 

MoRAN. (Oratorical manner) Yes, and you'll ruin homes in every street, you'll 
starve little children, you'll break the hearts of struggling mothers. 

Haggleton. We're going to make a lot of money. 

MoRAN. Blood money. Any man who would touch a penny of it is a low 
hound. 

Haggleton. I'm sorry you feel that way. I had picked you out as assistant 
manager. 

MoRAN. (Astounded) Assistant Manager? 

Haggleton. With a salary of eighteen dollars a week. 

MoRAN. (Overwhelmed) Eighteen dollars a week ! 

Haggleton. Of course I can't ask you to take it knowing how you feel. 

MoRAN. (Dazed) Eighteen dollars a week. For me ? 

Haggleton. You would regard it as blood money. 

MoRAN. (Confused) Yes, of course— that is to say— come to think of it I 
don't know as I would. 

Haggleton. (Smiling) You would always be thinking of those struggling 
mothers and starving children. 

Moran. (Scratching his head) As assistant manager I could make things 
easier for 'em. 

Haggleton. Then you accept? 

Moran. Yes, I accept. I see it's my duty to accept. I'm much obliged, sir. 

Haggleton. You'll have to keep yourself clean and stop drinking. 

Moran. (Respectful) I will, sir. 

Haggleton. Good. Go down to the Madison Street Bakeshop and help set 
up the electric kneading machine, 

Moran. (Backing toward door) Very well, sir, I'm very grateful, sir. (Exit 

Moran. Haggleton folds his arms and e^es Philip and Gentle in grim amusement. ) 

Haggleton. You see? It's as easy as that. 

Gentle. (Shaking his head) Not with all of us. (To Philip) Oh, I forgot. 
Margaret is waiting for you. 
Philip. Margaret? Where? 



28 



Gentle. At the boarding house. She wants you to bring Mr. Haggleton. 
We're going to make some tenement calls. 

Haggleton. (Impatient) There's no use in these tenement calls. 

Gentle. Oh, yes there is. You'll see a little old lady who lives on two 
dollars a week and is dying of consumption. 

Haggleton. We all must die. 

Gentle. You'll see a longshoreman wasting away with cancer of the 
stomach. 

Haggleton. These people are unsound. They can't resist. They're bound 
to perish and it's better they should. The only way to improve the race is to 
prune away the weak and the unworthy. That is what poverty does. 

Philip. And the weak ought to perish— you really mean that? 

Haggleton. Certainly. 

Philip. That's the most brutal talk I ever heard. 

Haggleton. Brutal, yes, but— think it over young man, think it over. I 
say the weak and unworthy ought to perish. It's true when you grow fruits 
and flowers, isn't it? It's true when you breed animals, isn't it? Then why 
isn't it true if you want to build up a race of men? 

Gentle. Because the greatest authority in the world is against you. 

Haggleton. What authority is that ? 

Gentle. (Giavel^) The authority that says: "Inasmuch as ye have done it 
unto the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto Me." (A pause and 
then Philip rises) 

Philip. I'm going. Come, Gentle. {To Haggleton) I'll tell Miss Lawrence you 
did not care to accept her invitation ? 

Haggleton. (Thinking a moment) No. I'll go with you. (They move toward the 
door) I have a few words to say to Miss Lawrence myself. (£v/7 Philip, Gentle and 
Haggleton. Jenn^ has been watching at the bedroom daor, ajar, for their departure. Now she 
hurries to the hall door and listens to their footsteps, then to the Windorv and stands looking after 
them with pantomime of I^een interest. She is dressed in a loose rvrapper and looks very 
beautiful) 

Jenny. (At window) There's Joe? He has the note ? (Pause) Ah, he's given 
it to a little boy. The boy is running after Phil. Quick now ! (She hurries to the 
looking glass and lets down her hair in alluring disorder over her shoulders. She powders her 
face, touches up her e};es with black ond her lips with red. Then she opens her wrapper and puts 
dabs of gold dust liquid over her bare shoulders. A step is heard on the stairs and Jenn\), with 
a satisfied smile, withdraws into the bedroom. Enter Philip, holding a note. He shows surprise 
at finding the room empty. Enter Jenny from bedroom) 

Jenny. (iVith feigned su, prise) Why, Phil ? 

Philip. Have you seen Joe Caffrey ? Hasn't he been here ? 

Jenny. No. 

Philip. I just got this note from him. 

Jenny. Sit down. (She gives a start of pain and presses her hand to her eyes) 

Philip. What's the matter? 



29 

Jenny. I feel dizzy. (She half staggers toward the wall and leans against it) 

Philip. (In concern) You're weak and faint. Here, you must lie down. (He 
helps her over to divan, she lies down obediently and he fixes pillows for her) Want something 
over you ? 

Jenny. No. Maybe I have fever. (She holds out her hand to him) 

Philip. (Taking her hand) Your hand is warm but— it feels all right to me. 

Jenny. It was that gold dust factory. 

Philip. Gold dust factory ? 

Jenny. Yes. I worked there before I did the neckties. But I couldn't stand 
it. The air poisoned me. 

Philip. What is a gold dust factory ? 

Jenny. You know, where they guild frames and things. They use gold dust 
and aluminum dust. We had to pack it in boxes and some of the girls dip plaster 
statues in bath tubs, full of the liquid stuff, and say, you ought to see 'em when 
they get through. Their arms and shoulders shining like gold. It's the very 
devil to get the stuff off. It seems to eat right into you. See here ? (She throws 
back her wrapper and shows the gold dust marks on her barz back ond shoulders. Philip looks 
at her uneasily) 

Jenny. How strangely you look at me, Phil. (Pause) Do you ever think of 
the old-days— before I was married? You were fond of me then, weren't you? 
You told me so and— you said I was pretty. 

Philip. (Unsteadily) You were pretty and— you are pretty. 

Jenny. (Brightening) Yes ? And you used to like my hair, you said it was so 
shiny and silky. Remember? (She spreads her hair alluringly over her bare while 
shoulders) 

Philip. Ye— es. (He is evidently affected by her beauty) 

Jenny. And, Phil,— you— you kissed me once. 

Philip. (Half rising) I must go, Jenny— really I must. 

Jenny. (Begging) Not yet, Phil. Sit by me a few minutes— here. (She 

lakes his hand and draws him toward her.) 

Philip. (Releasing himself) No, no. I can't wait. (He rises) 

Jenny. (Bitterly) You're a fine friend. A niceman to keep a promise ! You 

were going to help me, weren't you? You promised Liz on her dying bed that 

you'd help me. 
Philip. I want to help you, I will help you, but— (Jenny spiings up quickly, 

leaving her wrapper open, and runs to him) 

Jenny. (Pleadingly) I'm so lonely, Phil. (She takes his two hands in hers and looks 
at him with burning eyes) Look into my eyes and see how lonely I am. 

Philip. (Agitated) I— I'm sorry, Jenny ! 

Jenny. (Pathetic) Think what my life has been ! I had a husband and he was 
taken. A little baby and she was taken. Then I had nothing left but— my 
body— and that was taken. (Pause) In all this city there isn't one person who 
cares for me. 

Philip. I care for you. 



30 



Jenny. You pity me, but— you wouldn't even kiss me— not on the cheek- 
like a brother. 

Philip. Yes, I would. {He bends forward and kisses her cheek. As she feels his lips 
she throTss her arms fiercely around his neck ond clings to him) 

Jenny. (Passionately) I love you ! I love you. 

Philip. You— you mustn't say that. (Her face is close to his.) 

Jenny. Kiss me, Phil. (She draws him closer and his lips touch hers) No, no! 
Not that way! Not a cold kiss! Just once! {He k'sses her) Ah! again. (He 
kisses her passionately and holds her in his arms. ) 

Jenny. (Clinging to him) Phil ! (Suddenly he thinks of something and pushes her 
from him) 

Philip. What have I done? (In anger) You little devil! (She starts hack in fear 
and surprise) Let me see those stains! (He tears open her wrapper and roughly rubs his 
finger over the stains) Ah, I thought SO. You said it wouldn't come off. It comes 
off quite easily. You were lying to me. You put this stuff on your shoulders. 
You— you— (He checks himsslf viith an effort) 

Jenny. (Pleading) Don't be angry. There's no harm. 

Philip. No harm ! My God! What do you call harm? You hate the girl 1 
love, you have no decency, you get me here by tricks and lies to— to play the 
wanton. (Pause) You're a bad girl, you're bad all through. (She looks at him in 
silence and then her manner changes) 

Jenny. (Quietly) All right, then I am, I'm a bad girl. I got you here by a 
trick. That's so. And I hate the girl you love. You bet I do. {She pauses and 
then says slowly and gloatingly) But what are you? You're a loyal lover, you're a 
preacher of reform, you're a lot of things, Philip Ames, but you held me in 
your arms, and you kissed my red mouth. (Pause) And you liked it, you liked it. 

Philip. (Hoarsely) No! 

Jenny. (Triumphant) Ah ! (He sinks into a chair and covers his face with his hands) 

Jenny. (Comfortingly) Come, come, Phil. 

Philip. (Pushing her away) Don't speak to me. (She stands looking at him) 

Jenny. (Half to he, self) I mustn't speak to him. (To Philip) Say, do you 
mean that? 

Philip. (IVuh violence) Yes, I mean it. 

Jenny. (JVith sudden decision) Then it's all off. (Pause) I'm going, Phil. 
CPause) I won't trouble you any more. (She takes up a long cloak and hat and 
mooes toward the door. He sits motionless with his face in his hands.) Good- bye. (He makes 
no answer. She opens the hall door and stands hesitating. Then in broken tones) I'm 
sorry, Phil. But I— I love you, and when a girl as bad as I am loves a man- 
why— it's hell. (She slips on long cloak over wrapper and puts on hat) Good-bye. 

Philip. (In dull tone) Good-bye. (Exit fenny. Philip sits in troubled meditation 
with pantomime of self-reproach) 

Haggleton. Well ? 

Philip. (Looking up) Oh, are you there ? 

Haggleton. I thought you were coming back. 



31 



Philip. I was but— I've had an unpleasant experience. 

Haggleton. With Jenny Moran ? 

Philip. How do you know ? 

Haggleton. {Wisely) I passed her on the stairs. ('Pause, while Philip sits in 
moody thought. Haggleton draws up a chair.) What's the matter? 

Philip. Oh, I — er I tried to help her. (Haggleton studies his face altenlioely, 
brushes face po'wdsr off Philip's coal.) 

Haggleton. I see. (Pause) She's in love with you, eh? 

Philip. (Savagely) In love ? 

Haggleton. (Studying him) Hm! (He brushes powder off again) Next time I 
advise you to help some older and homelier female, one who doesen't put on so 
much powder, Phil. 

Philip. (Bitterly) Next time? What about this time ? 

Haggleton. Why nothing— er— happened, did there ? 

Philip. Nothing? I— I took her in my arms. I kissed her. 

Haggleton. She tempted you. 

Philip. (To himself) How miserably weak I am! 

Haggleton. It's a little thing. 

Philip. If I can't control myself in little things, how can I control myself 
in big things ? Besides, it isn't a little thing. I'm engaged to a fine, pure 
girl. (Pause) I'm going to tell her and— she'll despise me. 

Haggleton. Why tell her? 

Philip. She has a right to know. 

Haggleton. She has a right to know anything serious, but this isn't serious. 
You love her, don't you ? 

Philip. Love her ? I worship her. 

Haggleton. You don't care for this other woman? 

Philip. No, no ! 

Haggleton. Then you're easy with your conscience. It would be cowardly 
to tell her. 

Philip. (Brightening) You really think that? 

Haggleton. I know it. It would cause her needless pain. 

Philip. (Reflecting) By George, you're right. I mustn't tell her. Ouf ! 
(Admiring) It's wonderful how you see the best thing to do. (Pause) I don't 
know why I speak of it but, I— I feel a sympathy for you, sir. I used to think you 
were— sort of inhuman, but you've been kind to me— you've taught me a lot. 

Haggleton. I take a great interest in you— my boy. 

Philip. (Troubled) Sometimes I've thought that I have two natures, one from 
my mother— she was a splendid, unselfish woman and— (His face darkened) one 
from my father. 

Haggleton. (Disturbed) What about your father ? 

Philip. (In a low torn) My father was— he was not a good man, Mr. 
Haggleton. He— he pretty well broke my mother's heart and— (With growing 
anger) any man who could be unkind to such a woman, she was a saint on earth. 



32 



any man who could be cruel to her was a brute and a scoundrel. 

Haggleton. How do you know he was cruel to her ? 

Philip. I know how she suffered. I know what I saw. Many a time she's 
held me tight in her arms when I was a little fellow, and once, I don't suppose 
she thought I understood, she prayed God to forgive my father's sins and to let 
me make amends when I came to be a man. 

Haggleton. But— she never said what your father did? 

Philip. No, I never asked. I just grew up with the idea that my life was 
set apart for a special work. And it is set apart. I have a trade for my living, 
but my real business is to help the poor. That's what my mother taught me 
and I'm bound to do it, only— (He hesitates with show of impatience.) 

Haggleton. Well ? 

Philip. Well, sometimes I feel another thing pushing me, a hateful, infernal 
thing, pushing me towards money and— and all that. I think I'd like to be rich 
and— that's what worries me. I'm my father's son, too. (Pause and then 
anxiously) Do you see v/hat I mean? 

Haggleton. Yes, I— I see. 

Philip. That's why this Jenny affair is serious. It's a sign of the weakness 
in me. You can't understand that because you're not weak. 

Haggleton. (After a pause) We're all weak, my boy, and— I'll show you 
how weak I am. Take this tenement business. It wasn't entirely to study the 
problems of poverty that I came down here. 

Philip. No ? 

Haggleton. There was a sad reason, an unpleasant reason. The fact is 
years ago I— er— I did something that I regret. 

Philip. Something— wrong? 

Haggleton. Yes. And— er— Gentle knows what I did. 

Philip. Ah ? 

Haggleton. I'm making amends for this wrong— now. (Pause) I wish you 
wouldn't try to find out what it was. 

Philip. I certainly won't. (Gravely) It's not for me to judge any other man. 

Haggleton. If Gentle should try to tell you— 

.Philip. (Quickly) Please say no more about it. I won't let Gentle tell me. 
(Steps are heard in the hall then a knock at the doo.) 

Haggleton. Come in. (Margaret enters breathless) 

Margaret. (To Philip) What happened to you ? We've been waiting such a 
long time. 

Philip. I'm sorry. Is it too late for those calls? 

Margaret. You can't go now. There's been an accident in the river. One 
of the divers, Atkinson, I think, has been caught in a wreck and they can 't get 
him up. They just telephoned Mr. Gentle. He started on and said for you to 
come at once. The company's tug is waiting at the foot of West Twenty-third 
Street. 

Philip. (Starting for the door) Atkinson caught in the wreck ! Good Lord ! 



33 

His hose must be jammed under timbers. 

Margaret. (Running after him) Phil, you're not going into danger? 

Philip. Danger? I'm going to get Atkinson out of that wreck. 

Margaret. (In alarm) You 're going down to him ? 

Philip. Of course. (AffecHonalely)) Don't worry, dear. 

Margaret. How can I help worrying? Phil, you'll be careful? Promise me 
you'll be careful. 

Philip. Yes, yes. (He puts his arm around her and bends forward to k'^s her. She sees 
the powder on his coat and tries to biUsh it off) 

Margaret. Your coat is all flour from the bakeshop. 

Philip. Is it ? (Awkward pause) Really, I must go. 

Margaret. (Fondly) Remember, you are everything to me. (She holds up her 

lips and he pisses her) 

Philip. Good-bye, dear. (Exit Philip with a troubled look) 

Haggleton. (With grim approval) He's game, all right, that boy. (Margaret moves 
toward door without noticing Haggleton) Excuse me, I'd like a few words with you. 

Margaret. (Turning coldl\)) I don't see what you can have to say to me. 

Haggleton. No? I'm going to tell you something that concerns you very 
deeply. Sit down. (They take seats) You have certain strong convictions Miss 
Lawrence, I may say prejudices. 

Margaret. (Bitterly) Yes, strong prejudices against dishonesty and dis- 
loyalty. 

Haggleton. Referring to your father, I suppose? 

Margaret. Referring to my father and my brother Howard. 

Haggleton. You think I ruined their lives ? 

Margaret. I know you did. 

Haggleton. You regard me as— er— 

Margaret. (With heat) I regard you as the worst man and the wickedest 
man I ever knew or heard of. 

Haggleton. H'm. Suppose I admit that I did your father a wrong? I 
don't know much about your brother Howard, but— 

Margaret. {With p-.ide) My brother Howard is the most high minded, the 
most unselfish — 

Haggleton. All right, then I did them both a wrong. Now suppose I tell 
you I am sorry for this and want to make amends ? 

Margaret. I don't believe it. 

Haggleton. Suppose I prove it by associating your father's name with 
certain charities I am planning? 

Margaret. How do you mean? 

Haggleton. Suppose I tear down this block, Lung Block, and make a fine 
playground of it and give it to the poor of this city in memory of your father— 

Margaret. (Incredulous) You would do that ? 

Haggleton. And if I call it Lawrence Park in honor of your father— 

Margaret. (Pleased) Lawrence Park ! 



34 



Haggleton. If I do that, would you be disposed to— to be a little more 

friendly with me ? {Margaret thinks a moment) 

Margaret. You know how to tempt me, the very best way, but— {She shakes 
her head decidedly) No, no ! I could never be friends with you, never. 

Haggleton. Be careful ! I'm playing a difficult game here, young lady, 
a very important game where every move counts and— if it isn't friends, 
it's enemies. (Menacing) Is that what you want? 

Margaret. Yes, enemies always. I don't ti'ust you. There is something- 
back of all this. V/hy have you come down here? Why are you living in a 
tenement when people think you are off on a yacht ? 

Haggleton. Would you really like to know ? 

Margaret. Yoa have some cunning, selfish purpose you must know. 

Haggleton. No ! 

Margaret. Why do you want to make friends with me ? Why do you care 
what I do ? What difference can it make to you ? 

Haggleton. I'll show you. What you do may influence Philip, and I don't 
want him influenced against me. I tell you that frankly. 

Margaret. {Dzfiant) You can count on my influence absolutely against you. 

Haggleton. Then I shall end your influence. 

Margaret. You can't do it ! He loves me ! I'm engaged to him ! 

Haggleton. I can break your engagement. I can make you break it 
yourself. 

Margaret. (Ironical) Indeed ! 

Haggleton. I can do it very easily. I have tried to spare you, but— you 
won't have it. {He thinks) See here ! I'm going to tell you the truth. You're 
engaged to this young man, you love him, but— you know nothing about his fathe, ! 

Margaret. That makes no difference. 

Haggleton. No ? Suppose there was something against his father ? Suppose 
Philip had inherited certain wicked traits or tendencies — 

Margaret. It isn't possible. 

Haggleton. But suppose the case. Would you love him just the same? 

Margaret. {Distressed) I hate this conversation and I hate you. 

Haggleton. {Very polite) My dear young lady, I'm not wildly enthusiastic 
about you, but— {Pause) Come, be sensible. Answer my question. 

Margaret. (Brave/y) I should love Philip, no matter what tendencies he had 
inherited as long as he followed his better nature. 

Haggleton. Ah, but suppose he didn't? 

Margaret. I can't suppose such a thing. 

Haggleton. Suppose you saw with your own eyes that he was following in 
the footsteps of his father ? 

Margaret. Deliberately ? 

Haggleton. Yes, deliberately. 

Margaret. Then I— then he wouldn't be the Philip I have loved. 

Haggleton. You mean you wouldn't love him any more? 



S5 

Margaret. I wouldn't love (hat Philip. I couldn't love a man who was 
deliberately wicked. But why talk of this ? 

Haggleton. {Leaning closer) Suppose Philip's father was like me ? 

Margaret. (Agitated) No, no ! 

Haggleton. (Earnestly) Miss Lawrence, if I tell you something of the 
greatest moment, will you respect my confidence ? 

Margaret. Why — er— 

Haggleton. You'll not speak of it, say for a month? You promise? 

Margaret. Yes, I — er— I promise that. 

Haggleton. {Gravely after a pause) This is what I have to tell you. It is 
something that may change your whole life. Philip Ames is my son ! {She stares at 
him in blank astonishment.) 

Margaret. (Gasping) Your son ! 

Haggleton. Yes. Remember your promise. 
Margaret. ( With growing honor) Your son ! 

CURTAIN 
END OF ACT II. 



''THE BATTLE." 



ACT III. 

SCENE : Same as in Act II except that the room has been still further improved 
in appearance and furnishings. The place has the air of an office sitting room. 
The bedroom has been changed into an outer office, as is showrn by door, half 
of glass and inscribed 'PRIVATE OFFICE.' The hall door is also of glass and 
is inscribed ' EAST SIDE ASSOCIATED BAKESHOP.' The two windows at 
back have been joined into one large observation window, before which is a 
wide shelf covered with flowers, so that viev/ of river is seen as through a 
conservatory. Under this long window is a cushioned seat, with comfortable 
pillows for reading. There are two roll-top desks with two telephones. One 
of the telephones has a switchboard. There is also an automatic piano. 

TIME: About two in the afternoon. A snow^ storm is raging outside and snow 
flakes are seen through window. Three weeks have elapsed since Act II. 

DISCOVERED : Haggleton seated at one of the desf(s, studying some memoranda with 
pantomime of satisfaction. 
Haggleton. {Smiling in triumph) Ah ! {He presses electric bell on desk and Joe 

Caffrey enters from outer office. Joe is rather smartly dressed. In low tone) YoU got this 

information from Jenny Moran ? 
Joe. {Mysterious) Yes, sir. 
Haggleton. No one knows where Jenny is ? 
Joe. No one has any idea. 
Haggleton. {In warning) Don't let them have. {He consults memoranda on hluc 

paper) Howard Lawrence ! Hm! That's his name? 

Joe. {Consulting note book) That's his name— Howard Lawrence. 

Haggleton. Is Jenny sure he's the brother of this trained nurse? 

Joe. Perfectly sure. 

Haggleton. {Chuckling) Eh, Eh? The wonderful Howard Lawrence! {Pause) 

Joe, it's a great thing to know how to play your cards ! 
Joe. That's right, Mr. Jackson. 
Haggleton. You told Jenny what to do ? She understands ? 



37 

Joe. Yes, sir, she understands. (Haggleton puis memoranda in his desk- Then he 
takes out roll of bills and counts money) 

Haggleton. Seventy-five, eighty-five, ninety-five— a hundred. There, (f/c 
hands money; to Joe) 

Joe. {Taking money) Much obliged. 

Haggleton. Now listen. I want you to clear off your desk as soon as you 
can and go to Jenny. See that she carries out my instructions and— if things 
go right, you'll have an extra hundred by this time tomorrow. So look sharp. 

Joe. I will, sir. 

Haggleton. (Thinking) Call up Miss Lawrence at her boarding house, (/oe 

goes to telephone on the other desk- Haggleton presses electric bell on his desk. Enter Moran 
from inner office. He is much improved in face as would happen if a man would stop drinking. 
He is dressed with a k'nd of a cheap pretentiousness. Haggleton surve\)s him with satisfaction.) 
How long since you stopped drinking? 

Moran. (Respectful) Three weeks, sir, 

Haggleton. You look like a different man. (Pause) Has my stenographer 
finished those letters? 

Moran. Not quite, sir. 

Haggleton. Tell her to be quick. I'm going out. (Exit Moran bowing) 

Joe. (At telephone) Mrs. Binney's boarding house? Is Miss Lawrence 

there ? Please ask her to step to the phone What? This is the East Side 

Associated Bakeshops—- Is this Miss Lawrence? Mr. Jackson wants to 

speak to you. (To Haggleton) She's here. sir. I'll switch you on. (Joe manipu- 
lates switchboard) 

Haggleton. (To Joe) That will do. (Joe goes to door of outer office and pauses, 
listening. At phone) Miss Lawrence ? (He looks and seeing Joe motions him out of the 

room, Exit Joe sheepishly. At phone) Miss Lawrence? Ah Yes, this is— this 

is me. You remember that matter I spoke about?— Exactly— You promised 
to respect my confidence for a month— I know the month isn't up yet, but— 
you're anxious he should know? —You want to tell him yourself? —I thought 
so— Well, I release you from your promise— Yes, you can tell him— Oh, no, 
nothing has happened— (He shows in pantomime that something has happened. Pause 
while he listens) Why yes, he's at a meeting of discontented bakers, on Madison 

Street Yes, I could send for him All right, I will Good bye. (He 

hangs up receiver and presses bell on desk. Enter Moran carrying basket of letters) 

Moran. They're ready, sir. (He puts letters down before Haggleton and stands waiting) 

Haggleton. (Glancing over letters) Good. (He signs letters quickly) Stamp these 
and then go to that strike meeting and ask Mr. Ames to come up here as soon 
as he can. Say Miss Lawrence wants to see him about something very 
particular. 

Moran. Yes, sir. 

Haggleton. Make a round of our shops and see if there's any trouble. 

Moran. Yes, sir. (Haggleton finishes signing letters) 

Haggleton. There ! I'm going to meet Gentle. (He rises and closes desk) This 



38 



telephone number will reach me for the next hour. (He ivriles on slip of paper and 
pins slip on Jesl^. Then he opens door of outer office) Joe, wait until Miss Lawrence 
comes. Tell her Mr. Ames will be here shortly. 

Joe. {Heard off) I will, sir. 

Haggleton. Then hurry on and— remember what I said. 

Joe. (Appearing at door) I'll remember. (Haggleton takes hat and overcoat from hook 
on wall and moves toward door) 

Haggleton. (Aside chuckling) Howard Lawrence ! (Exit Haggleton. Meantime 

Moran is stamping and sealing letters) 

MORAN. (Looking up) What did he tell you ? 

Joe. (IVith important air) It's a delicate matter, Moran. Mr. Jackson thinks 
I've handled it with great finesse. 

MoRAN. Huh. I'd like to see you handle this bakeshop row. I've got that 
to settle. 

Joe. (Grinning) I know. It must be inspiring to hear you reasoning with the 
discontented masses. Ha, ha. Moran, the great kicker ! 

MoRAN. Those men don 't appreciate their advantages. 

Joe. Ha, ha, ha ! 

MORAN. (Oratorical manner) If we reduce their wages it's because the law of 
supply and demand require that * 

Joe. (With comical gesture) Don't. My lips are cracked. 

MoRAN. You ought to have more dignity. (Pause) That's a chick cravat 
you have on. 

Joe. (Pleased) Not bad, is it ? Cheap, too. Only a dollar forty! 

MoRAN. What dinky little cravats Jackson wears! Bet you he didn't pay 
over a quarter for it. 

Joe. Jackson saves his money. 

MoRAN. (IVith a fatuous air) He's only a hustler, anyhow. 

Joe. He's a wonder. Look in the glass. Where's that red nose you had ? 
Ha, ha ! And look at me! And look at this room! 

MORAN. (Looking about him) He Certainly has changed this room. (He starts 
for door and turns) Say, Joe, I have an idea Jackson set you looking for my girl, 
Jenny. 

Joe. What makes you think so? 

MoRAN. Just an idea, if he has, don't look too hard. 

Joe. Why ? Isn't your father's heart yearning for her ? 

MORAN. (Shaking his head) It's very embarrassing to have a daughter who— 
er— you understand. We owe something to our position, Joe. 

Joe. (Mocking) All right, fond papa. I won't hurt myself searching for 
your lost child. 

MORAN. Thanks, Joe. (Exit Moran, carrying overcoat, foe goes to pianola, opens it 
and puts in a roll of music. He is just preparing to play when a knock sounds at door. ) 

Joe. Come in. (Enter Margaret in a warm cloak sprinkled with snow, foe rises politely.) 

Margaret. Oh, its cold ! Has Mr. Ames come ? 



39 

Joe. Mr. Ames will be here as soon as he can get away from a bakers' 
meeting. There's a sort of strike on and he's trying to smooth things over. 
Mr. Jackson asked me to tell you. 

Margaret. Thank you. 

Joe. You don't mind if I go now? I have some work to do for Mr. Jackson. 

Margaret. Of course not. I'll wait, (/oe moves toward door, putting on overcoat.) 

Joe. Good-bye. 

Margaret. Good-bye. (Margaret takes off her cloak ond appears in a handsome gown. 
She looks stunningly) pretty and quite the great lady.) 

Joe. (Admiringly at the door) Um ! (He throws a k'ss at her back- Exit Joe. 
Margaret moves about the room with pantomime of doubt and distress. She pauses before 
Haggleton 's desk of^d notices paper pinned on with instructions about telephoning. She stands 
before picture of diver and shakes her head sadly. Then she sits down at the pianola and 
Works the pedals nervously. The instrument plays some very familiar music hall piece like 
' Waitin ' at the Church. ' Enter Emmy timidly. She is thinly clad and seems to be perishing 
With the cold. She stands silent for some moments, unseen by> Margaret, a pathetic. Wistful 
figure, then she moves forward slowly as if drawn b\) the music. As she listens her face shows 
sadness, sweetness and suffering. The music stops.) 

Emmy. (In a burst of feeling) Oh ! Ain't that grand ! 

Margaret. (Turning quickly) Why, Emmy ! Where t/iW you come from ? 

Emmy. (Half frightened) I— I just blew in. 

Margaret. (Touched) Poor child ! You're half frozen ! (She goes to Emmy 

in concern and examines her clothes) Out in a Storm like this with nO COat ! It's a 
wicked shame ! And look at your shoes. They're all broken open. 

Emmy. I had a coat, but— I soaked it. 

Margaret. I thought your father was going to take care of you? Didn't 
Mr. Ames get your father work in a bakery ? 

Emmy. Yes'm, but they make bread by 'lectricity now an' my old man he 
never made no bread by 'lectricity so he got his hand busted in the machine 
what they do it with. 

Margaret. Was his hand hurt badly ? 

Emmy. I dunno. They cut it off. 

Margaret. (Distressed) Cut his hand off ? 

Emmy. Yes'm. He can't do no more work. He's in the hospital. 

Margaret. What a shocking thing ? 

Emmy. (Pathetic) My old man he didn't have no money so Benny an' me was 
all alone an' (She begins to cry) we didn't have no stuff to eat. 

Margaret. This is dreadful. (She tak^s the child in her arms and tries to comfort her.) 

Emmy. Benny coughed somethin' terrible an' a woman what knows my old 
man said we must rub him with Green's Gladiator. (Margaret looks blank) Aint 
you never heard o' Green 's Gladiator liniment, great for horse or man ? 

Margaret. (Smiling) Well ? 

Emmy. So I soaked my coat for sixty cents and got a bottle an' I rubbed it 
on Benny. I rubbed on the whole business but— (Her voice breaks) it didn't do no 



40 



good. 

Margaret. I'll go to Benny this afternoon. I'll make him well. 

Emmy. (Shaking her head) Ye can't. 

Margaret. Yes, I can. I'm a nurse. 

Emmy. Ye can't make Benny well, Benny's dead. 

Margaret. Dead ! 

Emmy. {Nodding gravely) It was last night. I ain't got no little brother now. 
(She sobs quietly in Margaret's arms) I fixed him as nice as I could, but I didn't 
have no flowers. I had candles though, the woman what knows my old man 
gave 'em to me, four white candles. I stuck 'em on saucers and set 'em around 
Benny. An' I put his corn-cob dolly in his hands. Say, he looks grand ! 

Margaret. (IVeeping) Is he— is he there now ? 

Emmy. (Nodding "yes") That's why I came here. They're goin' to take him 
away an' I— (She breaks down again) I want my little brother to~to have a nice 
box and I — I ain't got no twenty dollars. (She cries bitterly.) 

Margaret. (IVith impulsive kindness) You shall have twenty dollars, fifty 
dollars, whatever you need. Here ! (She takes out pocketbook and gives Emmy money) 
Get something to eat first and I'll come to you within an hour. Put on this 
cloak ! (She lakes up her own cloak and fastens it about Emmy) It's a little big but— 
but you'll be warm. 

Emmy. Yes'm. (She throws her arms about Margaret's neck) You're awful good 
to me. 

Margaret. Now go on, dear, I'll see to everything. 

Emmy. (IVith a queer little courtes})) Good-bye. (Exit Emmy, leaving door open. 
Margaret goes sadl]) to window and stands looking out into the storm. Enter Philip with pre- 
occupied air. Margaret turns gladly at the sound of his steps and hurries to him.) 

Margaret. Phil, I'm so glad you've come ! (He takes off his overcoat.) 

Philip. Moran said you wanted me. I was busy with a lot of excited bakers, 
but I came at once. (He puts his arm around her affectionately and leads her to divan. 
They sit down) Now then ! 

Margaret. In the first place 

Philip. (Ardent) In the first place you never looked so perfectly adorable as 
you do now. (He bends forward as if to kiss her but she draws back seriously. ) 

Margaret. Not now, Phil. I have so much to say. I've had such a sad 
experience. You remember Emmy and Benny ? 

Philip. Of course. I forgot to tell you, their father hurt his hand the other 
day. 

Margaret. (Reproachful) Hurt his hand ? It was crushed in your kneading 
machine. It's been amputated at the hospital. 

Philip. That's a pity but— he was careless. 

Margaret. His children were left unprovided for and— Benny is dead. 

Philip. I'm sorry to hear that. (Telephone rings s/iarp/y) Excuse mc. (He 

goes to telephone. At phone) Hello! The Wisconsin Flour Mills? Yes, we've 

got the strike pretty well in hand. (He listens) No, no, Mr. Williams. We're 



41 

taking fifty carloads a week now and there's a Minneapolis concern that will do 
better for us— Yes, we want twenty per cent off— I know we're making 
money. That's what we're here for. {He listens) Ha, ha! You think we'll 
own the whole East Side? I hope so— Good-bye. (He rings off. To 
Margaret) What were you saying? (She rises and looks at him silently), her e^es full of 
pain. He comes to her and they} stand facing each other) Why do yoU look at me like 
that ? Have I done anything ? 

Margaret. (Sadli/) ■ Oh, Phil ! Don't you understand ? Don't you see ? 

Philip. No. 

Margaret. Because you're blind, because you're under the spell of this man, 
Haggleton. 

Philip. Not at all. - I'm making the most of an extraordinary opportunity. 
Mr. Haggleton is doing a great work here and the whole East Side is benefiting. 

Margaret. Is that poor man who lost his hand benefiting? And his child- 
ren ? And all the bakers thrown out of work — are they benefiting ? 

Philip. We must think of the greatest good for the greatest number. 

Margaret. Mr. Haggleton doesn't. He thinks of his own selfish interest. 

Philip. That isn't kind. Mr. Haggleton came down here at a great 
sacrifice, he has actually lived in a tenement. 

Margaret. Why ? Did he do it for his health? Did he need this bakeshop 

money ? Why did he do it ? 

Philip. He— er— he wanted to study tenement conditions. 

Margaret. Has he studied tenement conditions? Do you see any tenement 
conditions here ? (Earnestly) You know that wasn't his reason. (Pause) Don't 
you? 

Philip. (Hesitating) Well, I— er— I suppose that wasn't his reason. 

Margaret. (After a pause.) Phil, haven't you noticed that I've been worried 
and unhappy lately ? 

Philip. Yes, I have. 

Margaret. It's on account of something Mr. Haggleton told me. 

Philip. Something Mr. Haggleton told you ? 

Margaret. He told me three weeks ago. I had to keep it from you. He 
made me promise. 

Philip. That's strange? Can't you tell me now? 

Margaret. I'm going to tell you, he says I may. (Pause) When you know 
this it will make a difference— to both of us and— there's more at stake than 
you think. 

Philip. What is at stake ? 

Margaret. Everything. (Pause) Phil, you've changed since Mr. Haggleton 
came here. 

Philip. I— er— I suppose I have. 

Margaret. You've been absorbed in — business schemes and — money making. 
Isn't it true ? 

Philip. (Frankly) Yes, its true. 



42 



Margaret. {Pleading) Why have you been this way ? 

Philip. {Hesitates a moment then he tal^es Margaret affectionately) h\) the arm and leads 
her back to the divan) Sit down, dear. {They sit down) I admit what you say. Mr. 
Haggleton has had an influence over me. You feel it, Gentle feels it and — I 
know it. I'm different from what I was before he came. It's as if he had 
waked up something in me that I didn't know was there. 

Margaret. {In disma\)) Oh, Phil ! 

Philip. I haven't lost my ideals, but I see that money is needed to carry 
them out. Money is needed to help the poor. Money is needed to make you 
happy. 

Margaret. {Shaking her head) If I wanted money I could have married a 
millionaire. 

Philip. {With decision) Well, I want money. {Pause) I'm going to have it. 
{Pause) And that means an active business life. 

Margaret. You'll give up your diving? 

Philip. {Nodding 'yes') It's no career for a married man, anyway. 

Margaret. You've decided all this without telling me or— consulting me ? 

Philip. I'm telling you now. We can talk it over together. 

Margaret. My poor boy ! 

Philip. Why do you say that ? 

Margaret. Because— {She starts to speak severely, but checks herself and 
becomes appealing again as if she Would give him a last chance) Phil, there's an 
immediate thing to do before we settle this. I promised Emmy I would see 
about little Benny's funeral. Will you come with me? 

Philip. {Hesitating) Why — er— I don't see how I can. 

Margaret. It's such a pitiful case ! 

Philip. I'll be glad to give money, but— 

Margaret. {In a hurst of displeasure) Money! It's all money now. What did 
you say to Mr. Haggleton? 'You've got to do your loving yourself.' Why 
don't you do it? 

Philip. {Impatient) There's a strike of bakers on with serious interests at 
stake. 

Margaret. {Angrily) I hate your serious interests and your bakeshops and 
all the rest of it. {She changes again to a pleading lone) Phil, leave this business 
scheming. Be your old fine self again. 

Philip. You're unreasonable. 

Margaret. {Sadly) Oh, no. It's you who are throwing away the last chance 
of happiness — for both of us. {In still more earnest pleading) Think, before it's too 
late. 

Philip. I want to do everything I can to please you, I'll work for you, I'll 
protect you, I'll love you, but— {Firmly) Margaret, it's the man who must decide 
business matters and— I've decided this. 

Margaret. {With a strange wistful smile) Yes, Phil, you have decided more than 
you know, you have decided our whole future. {She rises and goes to Haggleton s 



43 

desk and reads telephone instructions. Then she lakes up telephone. At phone) Please give 
me 1902 John. 

Philip. What are you doing ? 

Margaret. (Turning to him) You want an explanation ? You shall have one. 
(Speaking in telephone) Is Mr. Jackson there ? . . . Please say that Miss Lawrence 
wants to see him . . . Miss Lawrence. And Mr. Gentle, too . . . Yes, Mr. 
Gentle . . . Ask them to come at once . . . Thank you. (She rings off. Philip listens 
with pantomime of impatience.) 

Philip. Why send for them ? They have nothing to do with this ? 

Margaret. They have everything to do with this. 

Philip. It's for you and me to make our plans together. 

Margaret. (Shaking her head sadly) We have no more plans to make together, 
Phil. 

Philip. You don't love me. 

Margaret. (Earnestly) I love you so much that — I'm doing the last thing I 
can to show you how much I love you. 

Philip. (In alarm) But you— you're going to marry me ? 

Margaret. (Gently) No, I'm going back to my work. 

Philip. (Impassioned) It's absurd. It's inconceivable. No girl throws over 
a man she loves just because he changes his business. And I love you, 
Margaret, I love you. (Pause and then fiercely) There's some infernal mystery 
here. 

Margaret. (Quietly) Yes ! (Steps are heard on the stairs. They listen) Now 
you'll know ! (Enter Haggleton and Gentle. Philip and Margaret rise) 

HaGGLETON. (To Margaret) Have you — er— (He looks at Philip.) 

Margaret. Not yet. Please sit down. (Haggleton and Gentle la\} off their over- 
coats. Then they all take seats. Haggleton, Gentle and Philip turn uneasily from Margaret 
to one another, and then look enquiringly at Margaret. To Haggleton and Gentle.) I want 
you to know that Philip and I are dear good friends and are going to stay so, 
although I've just told him that I— I will not be his wife. 

Haggleton. (Aside in relief) Ah ! (Qcntle gives a look of iimpathy lo Philip vol.o 
sits silent, his eyes fixed on Margaret.) I have told him only the fact, not the reason 
behind it, and he wants to know the reason, he wants to know the truth. 

Gentle. (Gravely) The truth ! (He looks at Haggleton.) 

Margaret. (To Haggleton) That's why I sent for you. I know only part of 
the truth. 

Philip. (To Haggleton) What do you know about me ? (Haggleton starts to reply 
hut Margaret interrupts him.) 

Margaret. (To Haggleton) Let me speak first. (To Philip) Phil, years ago 
Mr. Haggleton had a son, who was taken away by the mother. 

Philip. Taken away ? 
. Margaret. Stolen away— when he was little. 

Gentle. Only four years old. 

Philip. Well ? 



44 



Margaret. This was a long time ago. The child has grown to be a man. 
Gentle. He's twenty-six years old. 
Philip. (Startled) Twenty-six years old ! 
Margaret. Just your age. 

Philip. Why do you say that ? Why do you all stare at me ? What's the 
matter with you ? (He turns to Gentle) You don't mean — 
Gentle. Yes. 
Philip. (With growing amazement) It isn't possible that— that you are— (He 

faces Hagglelon) 

Haggleton. Yes. 

Margaret. (To Philip) Now you understand. 

Philip. (Slowly) My father! (With a sudden idea) But— (He turns to Gentle) 
My name is Philip Ames ? 

Gentle. (Gravely) Your name is Philip Haggleton. 

Haggleton. Your mother took another name to— to prevent me from finding 
her. 

Margaret. (Quickly) She must have had good reason. 

Philip. We'll come to that in a moment. (To Margaret) So this is what he 
told you ? 

Margaret. Yes. 

Philip. This is why you're leaving me, because I'm his son? 

Margaret. (Sadly but tenderly) I'm leaving you because you are like him, 
because you have forgotten your high purposes, because you are absorbed in an 
enterprise that has no love in it. 

Philip. How about my love ? 

Haggleton. (With feeling) And my love ? This enterprise is based on love. 
I started it and I know. (He turns to Philip) You said to me 'You must do your 
loving yourself . ' (Pause) Well, I've been doing it. 

Margaret. Why didn't you tell Philip he was your son and take him away 
from here? 

Philip. (To Haggleton) Why didn't you? 

Haggleton. Why didn't I ? Because in that first talk I saw you were against 
me, I saw she was against me. (He looks at Margaret) I wanted a fair show. I 
wanted you to know me as a man before you knew me as a father. 

Margaret. (To Haggleton) Hadn't you another reason for staying here, Mr. 
Haggleton, a very different reason ? Didn't something serious happen in your 
first talk with Mr. Gentle ? 

Haggleton. Why go into this ? 

Philip. Why not go into it ? (To Gentle) Did something happen ? 

Gentle. (Quietly) Yes. Something happened. 

Margaret. (To Haggleton) Something that changed your plans and sealed 
your lips ? 

Philip. (Thinking) It must have been something about my mother. 

Margaret. That's it. Thei-e must be some secret, some— (She thinks) 



45 



some message? 

Philip. {Startled) A message ? (To Gentle) Is there a message? 
Gentle. (Disturbed) Why— er— 
Margaret. There is, there is. 

Haggleton. {Gravely to Philip) You said you did not feel like judging any 
other man. 

Philip. {In doubt) I don't, but 

Margaret. {Quickly) Ah. I see. Some wrong has been done ! 
Gentle. (Earnestly to Philip) Whatever wrong there was will be atoned for 
nobly. Your father will put aside ten million dollars for a splendid campaign 
against poverty. 
Philip. Ten million dollars ! 

Margaret. (To Gentle) So that's how he managed you ! (She turns to Haggleton) 
You're a master of m.en, sir, you find the weak point in each one and use it, but 
you must learn a little more about women. You have shut his lips about this 
secret, {She glances at Gentle) but you haven't shut my lips. My name is Margaret, 
his mother's name, and the spirit of the wife you wouldn't manage is here in the 
girl you can't manage. That secret is going to be told. (She turns to Gentle) You 
have evidence of this wrong ? (Gentle hesitates. To Philip) Ask him. 

Gentle. (IVith sweat dignity) It's the attribute of youth to be severe, Margaret. 
I haven't sold my silence, this money is for the poor, not a penny of it for 
me. (He turns to Philip) You know my life, Phil. You trust me? 
Philip. Yes. 

Gentle. (Imp.essive) Then I tell you I have done what your mother would 
have wished. 

Margaret. (To Gentle) That's not for you to decide. The question is have 
you evidence of the wrong he did ? (She looks at Haggleton) 

Haggleton. (To Gentle) One moment! (To Philip) Can you understand a 
man doing something under sudden temptation that he regrets afterwards? 
Philip. Yes, I— I can. 

Haggleton. Can you understand that there might be someone this man 
loved very much- (Philip looks at Margaret) who would suffer pain, needless pain, 
if told what this man had done? Can you understand that? 
Philip. (Moved) Yes. 

Haggleton. (Pursuing his advantage) Suppose I knew you had done something 
you were sorry for and ashamed of, suppose I knew you honestly wished to 
make amends, wouldn't it be cowardly of me to tell your fault to this- this 
person you loved ? (He glances at Margaret) 

Philip. I— I think it would. 

Margaret. (To Philip) That's not the case. We're talking about your 
mother. We're talking about her reasons for taking you away from this man 
(She flashes a look at Haggleton) and bringing you up in poverty. Why did she do 
it? To save you from some great harm. And she'll save you now if you'll 
listen to her. (Philip hesitates.) 

Gentle. (Earnestly to Philip) Believe me, Phil, no good can come by dragging 



46 



that wrong from its grave. 

Margaret. (To Philip) He's mistaken ! Your mottier deprived you of your 
name and birthright. That was a monstrous crime unless she had justification. 
And you'll hate her memory unless you know what that justification was. I'm 
a woman and I say, for your mother's sake you must know the truth. 

Gentle. (Half to himszlf) For his mother's sake ! 

Philip. {To Margaret) You're right. {To Hagglelon) She's right. (To Gentle) 
I insist on seeing whatever my mother left for me. (Pause) Where is it ? 

Gentle. (To HaggUton. Distressed) I'm sorry, but I can't refuse him. For 

his mother's sake I— (He draws a folded paper from his pock^^t and hards it to Philip) 
There ! (Philip lal^es pap?r and holds it hssitating. ) 

Haggleton. (With feeling, to "Philip) I never begged any man before to let 
up on me, I've been a fighter all my life. I've taken my medicine, but— I ask 
you to believe that I'm sorry for the wrong I did, and— don't read that statement. 
(Philip turns to Margaret with questioning look-) 

Margaret. (To Philip) Think of your mother. 

Haggleton. (Pleading) Your mother is dead. Think of your father. 

Philip. (With passion) I think of some one who comes b'efore father or 
mother— (He turns to Margaret) I think of you. There's no more argument. 
There's only one thing, I love you and you want me to read this paper. (Philip 
opens paper and begins to read. His face shows increasing honor. Presently he holds out 
statement to her but she waves it away.) 

Margaret. No, it's for you. It's to save you. (She moves toward doo.) Good-bye. 

Philip. (With a cry of pain) Margaret. 

Margaret. Good-bye, Phil. I did it for you. Good-bye. (Exit Margaret. Philip 

stands silent. Then he ,eads statement again, his face darkening.) 

Philip. It's a crime. (Pause) My Gcd ! It's murder ! (He terns to Haggletor. 

pointing to statement) Is this true ? 

Haggleton. There was no murder. 

Philip. Isn't this your writing? 

Haggleton. Yes, but— 

Philip. (Slowl\)) Here is your own order over your own signature that an 
opposition oil refinery be set on fire. Do you deny it? (Haggleton hesitates.) I'll 
read what my mother says. 

Haggleton. No, no. I— I gave the order, but I— I had no idea anyone 
would be burned to death. We were desperate, our whole business future de- 
pended upon our getting control of the field, we had to remove that opposition. 
We tried to buy them out, we made them generous offers, but that stubborn 
fool, Lawrence— 

Philip. (Half to himself) Her father. (Pauss) She was right. I see it all 
now. I'm his son. 

Haggleton. (To Philip) There's no use making this out worse than it is. I'm 
sorry for what I did. I'll do whatever you think is right. 

Philip. Whatever I think is right. (Pause) How much were you worth when 



47 

you committed this crime ? (Pause) A million dollars ? 

Haggleton. No. 

Philip. Half a million ? 

Haggleton. Possibly. 

Philip. Had you ever committed any crime before ? 

Haggleton. No, nor since. 

Philip. (Scornfully) How dare you say that ? Don 't you suppose I know how 
you have crushed rivals and plundered the public ? Isn't your record there like 
a foul trail ? No crime since then ? Great God, man. what have you done but 
commit crime ? 

Haggleton. (Controlling himself with an effort) What was your idea in asking 
how much I was worth ? 

Philip. I thought we might consider some part of your fortune as honestly 
earned and— give back the rest. 

Haggleton. Give back the rest ? Who to ? 

Philip. To those who earned it— the people. 

Haggleton. Have you any idea what my fortune amounts to? It's forty 
millions, at least. 

Gentle. Forty millons? 

Philip. (Qu/eZ/jj) That means thirty-nine millions to be given back. 

Haggleton. (In burst of anger) Do you think I'll do such a crazy thing? 

Philip. I'm not setting myself up as your judge, but I can dispose of my 
life and decide about my conduct. And I tell you I will not be known as the 
consenting son of an immensely rich man whose riches have come from a 
criminal source. You can keep all your fortune, you needn't give back a penny 
of it, but you can't have me under the same roof with you. (Haggleton springs to 
his feet, terrible in his anger, e^es blazing, hands chnched. ) 

Haggleton. All right sir, that settles it. I thought you a son to be proud 
of. I've worked hard to win your confidence and affection, but you're a prig and 
and a fool. Now you play your cards and— I'll play mine. You've got one 
thing against me, that statement. Well use it and see what good it does you. 
I'll deny it, I'll deny everything and then where are you? You'll have to prove 
that paper genuine and — 

Philip. (Inte.rupUng) No. 

Haggleton. Why not? Do you suppose it will be accepted on your mere 
word? 

Philip. (Quietly) It won't be accepted at all. 

Haggleton. What do you mean ? (Philip picks up statement and folds it deliber- 
ately. Then he risss and walks toward the stove.) 

Philip. I'll show you what I mean. This thing started in fire and— we'll let 
it end in fire. There ! (He throws statement into blazing coals and watches it crumble to 
ashes. Then, lifting his voice in a ring of clear defiance) I may be a prig and a fool, 
but— I'm not a blackmailer. (Haggleton stares at Philip in astonishment.) 

Haggleton. (Half to himself) God ! That look in his face ! It's his mother 



48 



again ! Just as she turned to leave me that night ! {Haggleton moves slowl}} toward 
desk, with a lool^ of stern puipose. He opens .desk, taf^es out blue paper memoranda and looks 
at them with a grim smile) Well, this ends our experiment. I've had all I want of 
tenement life. All I want of doing my loving myself. I'm going home. Good 
bye, sir. (He takes up his overcoat and hat.) 

PhIILP. (Facing him steadilyi) Good-bye. 

Haggleton. I meant to spare you this, but— (Authoritative manner) I'll be at 
my house to-night at nine o'clock. (Sharply) I want you to be there. 

Philip. (T>efiant) I'll never enter your house. 

Haggleton. (Sharply, with his old air of mastery) You 'II be at my house to-night, 
young man, at nine o 'clock. 



CURTAIN. 
END OF ACT THIRD. 



THE BATTLE." 



ACT IV. 

SCENE: Is laid in the handsome library of Haggleton's Fifth Avenue mansion. 

Everything is costly and imposing. On the walls are two portraits, one of Philip 

at the age of four and one of his mother. There are doors R and L and a wide 

archway at the back opening into a conservatory. 
TIME : The same day as Act III, 8:30 in the evening. 
DISCOVERED : Haggleton standing before portraits of his wife and child. His face expresses 

tenderness and then confidence. 

Enter a very big and good looking and dignified servant in livery. 

Servant. (Announcing) Mr. Gentle ! 

Haggleton. Ah ! 

Servant. There are two— persons with him. 

Haggleton. I'll see Mr. Gentle alone. {Servant exits and presently) shows in Gentle.) 

Gentle. Good evening. 

Haggleton. Good evening ! (To servant) When the trained nurse comes show 
her into a separate room. (Servant bows and exits. To Gentle) You've brought Joe 
Caffrey and Moran ? 

Gentle. Yes. 

Haggleton. (Looking at watch) Eight thirty ! (They sit down) Do you think 
Philip will come ? 

Gentle. He will come, but he won't yield. 

Haggleton. We'll see. 

Gentle. I 've talked to him, I know how he feels. 

Haggleton. He'll feel differently. 

Gentle. (Shaking his head) Can you influence Philip when I have failed ? 

Haggleton. There is some one whose influence is stronger than yours or 
mine. 

Gentle. Miss Lawrence ? (Haggleton nods "yes") She'll influence him against 

you. 
Haggleton. (Smiling grimly^) I think not. Miss Lawrence is going to get a 



50 



new point of view this evening. {Bell rings) Ah ! 

Gentle. (Surprised) She ? Here ? 

Haggleton. She's been called from the trained nurses' home— /or a case. 

Gentle. A case ? (Haggleton goes to door L and opens it.) 

Haggleton. Here is the case. (Enter Jenny Moran. She is neatly dressed and 
loolis very well.) 

Gentle. Jenny ! (Jenny nods to Gentle.) 

Haggleton. (To Jenny) You had better lie down on this sofa. (Jenny does so.) 

Gentle. She's not sick ? 

Haggleton. (Smiling) Not seriously. (To Jenny) Put this shawl over you— 
just for the first effect. (She does so. To Gentle) I wish you would wait down- 
stairs and meet him when he comes. 

Gentle. Certainly. (He rises and moves towards door R.) 

Haggleton. Oh ! Ask Moran and Joe to come in. They have no idea who 
I am? 

Gentle. Not the least. They think you are Mr. Jackson. (Exit Gentle R.) 

Haggleton. (To Jenny) I'm doing this to please you. 

Jenny. Thank you! After all, he's my father. (Enter Moran and Joe Caffrey 
R.. They are both rather Jlashily dressed. Jenny is so placed that they do not see her face. ) 

Joe. (Deferential) Mr. Jackson ! 

Moran. (Over familia,) Mr. Jackson. (Jenn\) lifts her head unseen and Watches 
Moran with amusement.) 

Haggleton. Sit down. (They take seats) You know why you are here ? 

Joe. Mr. Gentle gave us an idea. 

Moran. (Greedy smile) We understand that Mr. Haggleton is going to buy 
out our bakeshop enterprise ? 

Haggleton. Possibly. At any rate I am to withdraw from the manage- 
ment and Mr. Haggleton wants a competent person to take my place. The 
salary will be a hundred dollars a week. 

Moran. A hundred dollars a week ! 

Joe. Whe — ew ! 

Haggleton. I have thought of you two for the position. Mr. Haggleton 
will decide between you. 

Moran. Thank you but— 

Joe. You're very kind, but— (They face each other with amusing pantomime of 
hostility, Jenny business.) 

Haggleton. Mr. Haggleton has precise ideas about things. He can't stand 
a man who gambles. 
Moran. (To Joe) Vbu'c/ never suit Mr. Haggleton. 
Haggleton. And he hates a socialist. 

Joe. (To Moran) That lets you out. (Jenn^ business) 

Moran. (Oratorical manner) I wish you would tell Mr. Haggleton that in the 
last few weeks my character has greatly— er— broadened. I see with a clear 
vision the fallacies and follies of socialism. 



51 

Joe. (Mocking) Hear, hear ! 

MoRAN. {Confidential to Haggkton) You can put that in your own words and— 
(//e bends forward and whispers in Haggleton 's ear) 
Haggleton. Want to bribe me, eh ? 
MORAN. (Persuasive) Business is business. {Jenny can hardly restrain her amusement.) 

Haggleton. {To Joe) Could you give up gambling ? 

Joe. (IVith a frank smile) If I had a hundred a week I'm afraid I'd take a 
flyer, now and then. 

MoRAN. You see ! 

Haggleton. Here's another thing. This will interest you. {He turns to 
Moran) Mr. Haggleton does a certain amount of good and, some days ago, an 
unfortunate case was brought to his notice. It's rather extraordinary but— 
It was your daughter Jenny. 

Moran. {In dismay) Good Lord! You haven't told him she's my daughter? 
(Jenny business.) 

Haggleton. I thought I would let you tell him. 

Moran. Do you think I'm a fool ? That might queer me for the place. 
Haggleton. But Jenny's welfare? 

Moran. Why should I worry about her welfare when she's disgraced me ? 
Haggleton. Wouldn 't you have her live with you ? Wouldn't you help her? 
Moran. I don't want anything to do with her. (Jenn^ business) 
Joe. That's a shame ! (He turns and sees Jenny) Oh ! (Haggleton gives Joe a 
Warning look- Business between Jenny and Joe.) 

Haggleton. H'm ! It's fortunate for Jenny Mr. Haggleton has taken quite 
a fancy to her. 

MORAN. What ? 

Haggleton. He thinks she would make a fine woman if she had a chance. 

Moran. (More and more surprised) You don 't say ! 

Haggleton. More than that, he intends to give her a chance. In fact he has 
brought her to his own home. 

Moran. (StadleJ) Jenny here? (Jenny business) 

Haggleton. She's been here for several days. 

Moran. Then— then she must have influence with Mr. Haggleton? 

Haggleton. Undoubtedly. 

Moran. (Changed manner) Do you know I always said that girl would do well. 
(Pause) I wonder if I could see her? 

Haggleton. I think so— (Business for Jenny and Joe) She'll be disappointed 
that you don't want her to live with you. 

Moran. Well— er— of course if she has reformed— (Oratorical manner) I sup- 
pose it's my duty to be a father to her, I must give her the benefit of serious 
counsels and 

Jenny. Cut it out ! (Moran turns and sees Jenny.) 

I Moran. (Taken aback) Jenny! 

Jenny. (To Moran) So you don't want to have anything to do with me ? 



52 



MoRAN. (Apologetic— to Jenn\)) I didn't mean that. I was giving Mr. Jackson 
a line of talk for old Haggleton. {Haggleton business.) 

Jenny. Old Haggleton ? Is that what you call him ? 

MoRAN. Why not ? We're all friends here. 'We want this position— in the 
family. A hundred dollars a week will do us a lot of good and— /'m the man for 
the place. {He looks at Joe) I'll make you my assistant— at a good salary. (He 
looks at Jenny) And I'll do the right thing by you. Don't mind what I said. 
(Fatuous air) When it is a question of a job like this a man has to be a bit of a 
diplomat. 

Joe. (To Moran) You're a hell of a diplomat ! 

MoRAN. (Smoothly) Mr. Jackson understands. We know Haggleton is a cold- 
blooded scoundrel, but 

Jenny. (Angrily) Stop ! (She turns to Haggleton) You see what he is. No 
wonder you rich people are disgusted with the poor. (To Moran) You haven't 
any decency or— honesty— or anything. 

Moran. How dare you ? 

Jenny. I'll tell you how. This man you've been insulting is— Mr, 
Haggleton ! 

Moran. (Dazed) Mr. Haggleton ! 

Joe. (Starting to his feet) Mr. Haggleton! (To Moran) It's the street for ours! 
(Moran skulks awa^ and Joe folloivs) 

Haggleton. Wait! (To Joe) There's a lot of good in you. (To Moran) And 
there's some in you. You've stopped drinking, anyway. 

Moran. (Cringing) Yes, sir. 

Haggleton. For the sake of this plucky girl I'm going to give you both a 
a chance. (To Joe) Fou get the position. 

Joe. (Astonished) Me? 

Haggleton. (To Moran) And you shall be his assistant. (To Jenn^) And you 
shall draw both salaries until further notice. That will keep the family together. 

Joe. (With an admiring glance at Jenny) Thank you, sir. (Enter servant carrying 
card on tray. Haggleton takes card and looks at it.) 

Haggleton. (With controlled emotion) Ask him to— to wait. Is the trained 
nurse there ? 

Servant. Yes, sir— in a separate room. 

Haggleton. Let the trained nurse come in. (Servant hows and exits. Haggleton 
rises. To Moran and Joe) This way. 

Joe, (With an air of importance. To Moran) You're my assistant ! 

Jenny. (To Moran) Cheer up, father. I'll give you spending money. (Exit 
Moran and Joe R.) 

Haggleton. (To Jenny) You understand what you're to do? 

Jenny. I understand. (Haggleton stands for some moments looking at portraits of 
mother and child, then he moves slowly into conservatory. Exit Haggleton. Servant shoms in 
Margaret L. She wears the costume of a trained nurse and looks very pretty. She glances 
about the room and sees some one lying on the sofa. She approaches sofa and starts' in surprise.) 



53 

Margaret. Why— Jenny Moran ! 

Jenny. Yep ! 

Margaret. But- the patient ? 

Jenny. I'm the patient. Sit down. (Margaret draws up chair) I sent for you. 

Margaret. (More and more surprised) You sent for me? How did you know 
where I was ? Why are you here ? 

Jenny. Mr. Jackson's orders. I mean Mr. Haggleton's. You knew who 
Mr. Jackson was ? 

Margaret. Yes, but— (Sudden suspicion) Did Mr. Haggleton get me here ? 
Is this Mr. Haggleton's house ? 

Jenny. Sure ! (Margaret starts angrily) Easy now ! You think he's the worst 
that ever happened. Just the same, he took care of me when the rest of you 
turned me down. 

Margaret. We didn't know where you were. 

Jenny. You didn't want to know. I'll tell you where I was, I was down and 
out. 

Margaret. Why did you leave the tenement ? 

Jenny. (Fiercely) Why ? Because I was stuck on Phil. That's why. And 
you had him. So I quit. I was going back on the town, if you want to know, 
but— Mr. Haggleton found me. 

Margaret. (Rising) I don't think I can be of any use here. 

Jenny. (Sarcastic) You don't like to hear about going on the town, do you ? 
It isn't nice, is it? (In a burst of anger) By God, it's women like you who send 
women like me to the devil ! 

Margaret. That's not true ! 

Jenny. Not true ? I'll show you how true it is. When my husband died he 
left me with a little baby and no money. So I went out as a wet nurse. I had 
to. And my baby died— they always do— you know that. 

Margaret. Well ? 

Jenny. Well, I was grieving for my baby and they were afraid my milk 
would stop and their baby would suffer. So they filled me up with fine food and 
everything I wanted to drink and— (Haggleton enters from conservatory unobserved and 
stands listening.) 

Margaret. (Interrupting) What has this to do with me ? 

Jenny. A whole lot. I was a pretty girl and— the wife was away and the 
husband— well, one night he got me drinking champagne and— then he kissed 
me and— he told me to call him Howard— 

Margaret. ( IVith a start) Howard ! 

Jenny. (Watching Margaret keenly) That was his name, Howard Lawrence ! 

Margaret. (Indignant) It's false ! Howard Lawrence is my brother! 

Jenny. £x-actly ! 

Margaret. He's the soul of honor. 

Jenny. (Mocking) Yes. He married a skinny old chromo because she was rich. 

Margaret. He loved her. 



54 



Jenny. (Sarcastic) I'll bet he did. He loved her and seduced me. And he let 
her turn me into the street without a reference. Your noble brother Howard ! 

Margaret. I don't believe it ! I'll never believe it ! 

HXggletOn. (Stepping forward) It's true ! Absolutely true ! 

Margaret. (Startled) Mr. Haggleton ! 

Haggleton. I have seen your brother. He admits that he— wronged this girl. 

Jenny. Ah! 

Margaret. (IVith look of pain) My brother Howard ! (To Haggleton) You 
have brought me lifere to tell rrie this ? 

Haggleton. I've brought you here for a square deal. I'm sorry to score on 
you off your brother. I know men don't do it in story books or plays but— this 
is life. I'm fighting for my son and—you've taken him away from me. You've 
set up such a high standard of family honor that— well, if we had to be judged 
like that, I don't know where we'd corrie out, any of us. See ? 

Margaret. (Half to herself) My brother Howard! I loved him so and— I 
trusted him. 

Haggleton. Remember, I didn't look up your brother's record, I didn't go 
prying into his 'life. I learned these things by accident— sAe told me. (He looks 
at fenny. ) 

Jenny. (Grateful. To Haggleton) Because you took me out of the street, you 
—you gave me a chance. 

Marga'r'et. I know. 

HaggLiETON. (Kindl}). To Margaret) See here ! You're a plucky girl. I. like 
you and my son loves you. Well, I want you both to be happy but-- 'J'lvant 
you to be sensible, too. (Pause) Now listen to me! I've lived long enough, in 
this world to understand men and I tell you none of -them are all bad and none of 
them are a/^ go6d. 

Margaret. (Unhappy) I understand, I— er— I'm to blame. (With sudden 
decision) Where is he ? 

Haggleton. Philip? He's in there. (He points to door R.) 

Margaret. I must speak to him at once. 

Haggleton. You're not going to tell him about your brother? 

Margaret. Yes. 

Jenny. (To Margaret) Say, you're all right. 

Margaret. No. I'm all wrong, but— (She turns to Haggleton) I'm going to 
give you what you ask for— a square deal. (A pause) Would you mind leaving 
me alone— with him ? (She glances at door R.) 

Haggleton. Would I mind? (To fenny) You'd better go in there. (He points 
to door L. fenny mooes toward door and turns.) '.(;"•; 

Jenny. (ToMargaret. With an effort) I — I wish you luck with Phil. (Ex/V/ennt/'L.) 

Haggleton. I'll go in here. (He moves toward conse.vatorX) and turns) Tell him 
I'm ready to do anything that's half-way reasonable and— when you want me 
just clap your hands lightly. (Exit Haggleton into conservatory. Margaret opens door R. 
Enter Philip. He stares at her in astonishment.) 



55 

Philip. Margaret ! {He goes to her quickly) What are you doing here ? 

Margaret. Don't you see my dress ? I'm on a case. 

Philip. In Mr. Haggleton's house ? 

Margaret. They sent for me. I — I didn't know it was Mr. Haggleton's 
house. 

Philip. (Frowning) This is some scheme of his. 

Margaret. (Gently) Yes, Phil, but— it's only fair. I don't think we've been 
quiet just to Mr. Haggleton, at least I haven't. I've set myself as a— a judge 
of other people and— and now— (She shows emotion) 

Philip. What's the matter ? 

Margaret. (With an effort) My brother Howard— did something that— that 
puts a stain on my family. 

Philip. (With a sigh of relief) Good Lord ! I'm glad of that ! 

Margaret. Glad ? 

Philip. (Nodding "yes") I've got one, too. 

Margaret. What ? 

Philip. A stain. 

Margaret. (Remembering) Oh! Your mother's statement ! (Brightening) Phil, 
is it quite a— er— black stain ? 

Philip. It's black enough. 

Margaret. Splendid ! (He stares at her in astonishment) Of course I'd be heart- 
broken only— as long as we loth have one- (Pause) You musn't ask what 
mine is. And— I'll never ask what yours is. Promise. (She holds out her hands and 
he takes them eagerly) 

Philip. My Margaret ! 

Margaret.. You haven't promised. 

Philip. I promise. (He folds her in his arms) Darling ! (He kisses her) 

Margaret. (Radiant) Philip ! 

Philip. You'll be glad to hsar that I've broken absolutely with my father. 

Margaret. (Quickly) You mustn't do that ! 

Philip. I've thought over what you said about becoming hard and selfish. 

Margaret. I've thought over what you said about the need of money for 
doing good and— (Ccquettishly) to make me happy. 

Philip. (Gravely) After reading that statement of my mother— 

Margaret. (In distress) Oh dear ! Why did I make you read it ! 

Philip. It was really a wrong against })our father. 

Margaret. (Bdghtening) Then— then I'm the one to forgive that wrong. 
(Pause) And, Phil, I must forgive it, I do forgive it. 

Philip. (Shaking his head) I don't. 

Margaret. (Pleading) Your father is sorry. 

Philip. I can't help it. 

Margaret. He will make amends. (She claps her hands lightly. Enter Haggleton 
and Gentle softly from conservator}). Philip does not see them.) 

Philip. Why do you clap your hands ? 



56 



Margaret. I'm nervous and — I'm unhappy because you won't make friends 
with your father. 

Philip. You wanted to save me from him. 

Margaret. I didn't understand. 

Philip. You spoke of my mother. 

Margaret. Perhaps your mother didn 't understand either. 

Philip. Didn 't understand what ? 

Margaret. Why— er— 

Gentle. (Stepping forward) Let me tell him. 

Philip. {Turning in surprise) Gentle! Mr. Haggleton ! 

Gentle. (To Philip) I think Margaret means that we ought not to condemn 
our fellow men too hastily, since we are all prone to weakness and temptation. 
There's eternal wisdom in the warning: 'Judge not that ye be not judged. ' 

Margaret. Oh, yes ! 

Philip. That's true ! 

Gentle. If a man says, 'I have done wrong and I am sorry' and if he proves 
it by honest acts, I believe the angels in heaven sing over him, for he has done 
all he can. (He turns to Philip) My boy, I knew your mother's pure soul. I knew 
her sorrows and her hopes for you. Believe me, she would be— (He pauses and 
looks at portraits of Philip's mother and her child) Believe me, she would be happy, she 
/5 happy to know how things have shaped themselves. 

Philip. (Moved) You think that ? 

Gentle. I know it. Let this sweet girl speak for your mother. (He turns to 
Margaret. Margaret takes Philip's hand and puts it in Haggleton' s hand) 

Margaret. (Happil\)) There ! 

Philip. (Drawing back) Wait ! I must know about that money. What is to 
be done with it ? 

Haggleton. In a few years you'll do what you please with it. It will all be 
yours. But while I'm here I'll try to have it used with some sense. I won't 
go in for sloppy, sentimental philanthropy and I won't help those who won '/help 
themselves. Why should I ? God doesn't. (Pause) I tell you what I will do, 
and I'll do it with all my heart. 

Philip. What ? 

Haggleton. I'll devcte my last years and what brains I have to working out 
with you a scheme to use my fortune as the basis of a great new movement in 
this country to establish between the rich and the poor, with proper protection for the 
rich, mind \)ou, to establish between the capitalist and the laboring man what can 
honestly be called A SQUARE DEAL. (Pause. To Philip) Does that go? 
(Philip impulsively holds out his hand and Haggleton clasps it.) 

Philip. Father ! 
Haggleton. My son ! 

CURTAIN. 
END OF ACT FOUR. 



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